Into The Storm
by Lyonene
Summary: An Imperial woman looking to start anew finds herself caught up in the middle of a civil war, in love, and discovers several things about herself she would have never thought possible. Vilkas/OC and eventual OC/Ulfric. Always subject to change. ON HOLD.
1. Puny, Imperial Woman

**A/N & Disclaimer:** Expect to find liberties taken with the game's various storylines, tinkering with time and expansions on personalities (namely Vilkas at the moment). I own nothing, except maybe Lysandra but that's tentative as technically she is based off of a created character... darn it.

**12/11/11:** Fixed the Tamriel/Cyrodiil mistake!

**1: Puny Imperial Woman**

The events that led up to her escape would forever be a rushed blur to Lysandra, with one startling clear detail: there had been a dragon.

A bloody dragon.

Why she had been arrested and consecutively sentenced to execution no longer seemed that important, though at the time, she had been inwardly cursing the unjustness of it all. Crossing the border had led to this, to a death via beheading. Crossing. The. Border. How was she to know that she'd be taken for a spy?

But that was now trivial; a lot of things were now trivial when compared to the reason for her freedom. Again, a dragon, something that was no longer supposed to exist. For as long as she lived –which was now, thanks to said dragon, going to be longer than expected- she would never forget that day.

When she had finally stopped running and taken a moment to catch her breath alongside her Nord companion and fellow escapee, the information of 'That was Ulfric Stormcloak' was barely digested properly. Other than obviously someone of great importance, she had no idea, nor cared, who he was.

Somehow she wound up being sent to Whiterun, which was where she was now and as far as she was concerned, after relaying the message to the Jarl, she was through with this dragon business. She was also through with all this Stormcloak business she kept hearing about, Ulfric Stormcloak, Stormcloak business, she was seeing a pattern here.

Of all the places to pick for starting over, she had to pick the country that was apparently at war and as a bonus: had dragons!

"Can you use that, Imperial, or do you keep it for decoration?"

Lysandra frowned, more annoyed with the reference to her race than the obvious insult on her perceived lack of skill. "Can you use yours, Nord?" She replied evenly, staring across the sparring ground at Vilkas.

With no prospects in Whiterun outside of becoming a beggar –something she had no intention of ever becoming- she had looked for work and been directed towards the Companions.

Some people called them mercenaries, others said they were honorable. All parties agreed they provided a bed and food with a chance to make coin, which had been enough for her.

Joining had been a bit easier than she had thought. Kodlak, the Harbringer of the Companions, had asked her a few questions and then said she would have to prove herself. From her first meeting with Kodlak, she had liked him. He had been unassuming, but self-assured. Others called him 'leader' but he was the first to say that in the Companions, there was no leader. Each man and woman answered to no one but his or herself. Kodlak liked to think of himself as someone who guided but not ordered.

Upon entering Jorrvaskr, she had been directed down into the lower level of the old yet strong wooden building. One rude Dunmer had pointed her down the rather wide hall and she had walked it all the way to a room with who she now knew to be Kodlak and Vilkas inside, seated at a table.

Vilkas had been looking towards the open doors as if he had known she was coming, a grim expression on his rugged face. From the get go she had gotten the impression he didn't like her, though she had no idea why. She hadn't offended him yet.

When he had protested her joining the Companions, Kodlak had then 'suggested' that Vilkas take her out into the yard.

So now here they were, standing across from each other. Vilkas in his steel and fur amour with his great sword and her in her plain hide wear with a sword she had taken from Helgen. While not exactly a great warrior, Lysandra wasn't a puny weakling either. She could handle herself in a fight, sometimes. Usually. Depending on who she was fighting.

"Let me see you raise that sword over your head." Vilkas ordered, his oddly pale, near white eyes fastening on her bare arms. "Puny woman, your arms are thin and scrawny like a little child, one still in swaddling clothes."

Her thin and scrawny arms were also very cold, not yet used to this constant chill that so far seemed to be the main temperature in Skyrim. Nor was she used to their clothing. Some, people of other Races mostly, wore clothing with longer sleeves, but this was currently the only outfit she possessed.

Frowning, Lysandra gripped the hilt of her sword in both hands and slowly began raising the sword over her head. It was a bit surprising to find that it was harder than she would have assumed, not impossible, but hard. She supposed the rush that usually came with fighting helped her handle the sword.

Crossing the cobbled stones, Vilkas approached her, standing directly in front of her and stared down at her. "Hold it steady, woman." He ordered, ignoring the glare she shot him and poked a hard finger into her upper arm. "You have no muscle."

Lysandra tried to ignore the way he made that sound, pity mixed with condescending.

"What's someone as soft as you doing here?" He demanded quietly, beginning to slowly circle her. "Why would you want to join the Companions?"

Lysandra just kept her teeth gritted and her arms up.

"You should be back in Cyrodiil, living in one of your fine Imperial houses with a rich merchant husband and weakly, Imperial infants at your breasts."

Seeing red, she whirled on him, bringing her sword with her. A hiss escaped her clenched teeth when he merely blocked her attempt. What was truly humiliating was that he used his forearm to block, thrusting it against her wrists, the steel gauntlet biting into her flesh and forcing her to drop her sword.

"Pick it up." Vilkas stepped back, reaching behind him to unsheathe his sword as she did as she was told. "Now, we begin your training."


	2. A Proper Bed

**2: A Proper Bed**

"Have my blade sharpened, Imperial…" Lysandra mocked under her breath, her soft cloth covered feet slapping the stone steps that led to the Skyforge. She carried Vilkas' great sword tucked beneath her arm, wrapped in a soft linen.

Her first week in the Companions had been… not what she was expecting. She had been regulated to basically an assistant, or a slave if she was having a bad day, and ran errands for them all over Jorrvaskr. By the end of her day, she was so tired that she had no problem in falling asleep on a pallet on the floor just off of the large, main ground level room of the building.

So far she had mostly been running back and forth between Jorrvaskr and the Skyforge, a glorified errand girl who spent a lot of time hauling shields and weapons. When she wasn't running errands, she was in the yard training. Sometimes she would practice on one of the training dummies and other times, Vilkas would come out to spar with her.

Sparring might have been too kind. He would actually come out and watch her, he would offer criticisms that might have thinly passed as advice and make her do strengthening exercises. When it felt like she would pass out from exhaustion, he would call an end to the exercises and then insist on putting her through her paces with the sword.

After today's rather brutal bought, he had passed over his sword and ordered her to have it sharpened. She figured at the very least, she was turning into quite the fine servant, and beating post.

* * *

><p>"You're too hard on the girl, Vilkas."<p>

Vilkas wasn't taken by surprise very often and yet the one who surprised him most when it did happen was his Harbringer. He glanced over at Kodlak, nodding briefly to acknowledge him and then turned his attention back towards Lysandra.

She was at Skyforge, obviously listening to Eorlund.

Vilkas, and now Kodlak, stood on one of Whiterun's many stone walkways, overlooking the Cloud District. He had left the grounds in order to take a walk, needing some way of calming the blood that coursed hotly through his veins. Once here, in this spot, he had halted upon seeing her.

"She still seems to wish to join the Companions; obviously I haven't been hard enough." He said flatly.

Kodlak watched as Lysandra bent over to study something Eorlund was pointing too, reaching up to stroke his gray beard. "She's been here for several days now, I think it's time she was given a proper bed, don't you?"

"So you are planning on letting her become a full-member." It wasn't a question.

Kodlak said nothing, his eyes on the Imperial woman.

* * *

><p>"It is nice to have a new face to look upon."<p>

Farkas was the twin brother of Vilkas, that much Lysandra knew. Initially, she had made up her mind to dislike him just as much as she did his brother. However, common sense intervened and she gave him a clean slate to start with. Providing he did the same with her and not just make assumptions based on her race.

From anyone else, that comment might have been taken as a leer or something mildly offensive. Farkas said it with a sincere simplicity that left her simply nodding and offering a hesitant, slow smile.

"Come." He gestured her to follow him, already turning and heading for the stairs that she knew led down to the rooms underground.

She had been down here a time or two, or a hundred, running errands and occasionally speaking with Kodlak. Mostly he did the speaking and she just listened, rather enjoying hearing his gentle advice and old stories. She knew directly across from the stair entrance was the long room that housed most of the Companions, the ones who were not a part of the inner circle.

"Pick a bed and a locker." Farkas instructed, stepping aside as she began searching for an empty space. "When you're ready to get to work, real work, find me or Aela and we'll give you something to do."

All she could was nod gratefully at him, pleased that finally, she would be getting out of the grunt work.

Not saying a word, he simply walked out.

Settling in took literally no time at all because she didn't have much. All she had come with were the clothes on her back and the sword she had liberated from the garrison in Helgen. The sword she placed in the locker, not about to carry the thing everywhere like she had seen others doing, it was heavy and uncomfortable. Not to mention she wasn't expecting to be attacked within Jorrvaskr.

With only a few others lingering in the hall of the underground chambers, she began venturing towards Kodlak's quarters. If he was in, and in a good mood, she might ask him a question or two, mostly pertaining to what was to come next for her. She didn't think a week of training with Vilkas had done much to improve her swordsmanship though at least she was now beginning to hold her sword above her head with much less arm trembling.

Along the way, she also began to peek into the other bedrooms, easily picking out which one belonged to Aela. The woman was a huntress who excelled in archery. The many quivers of various arrows stowed about the room gave away its owner.

Set across from what appeared to be a small kitchen and bar, she found another room. It was filled with what seemed to be the standard here. Furs on a low to the ground bed, furs on the floor and bare essentials. Unlike some of the other rooms, she had no way of telling who it belonged too.

"You're in my room, Imperial."

Whirling, she stared up into Vilkas' impassive face, trying to decipher if he was angry at the intrusion. She was only just technically in his room as she was still in the open doorway. The door had been wide open otherwise she wouldn't have even tried peeking. She might have been curious but she wasn't rude. "I'm sorry."

He took a step forward, which in turn caused her to take one backwards, actually venturing inside. "Why are you here?"

"I was just looking around-"

"That's not what I meant, woman."

Lysandra knew that and had also known playing dumb wasn't going to work. While not someone who exuded scholarly intelligence, Vilkas also didn't cross her as stupid. She also had a feeling telling him she needed a bed, food and the chance to earn coin would have just made whatever his problem with her worse. She remained silent, revolving on the spot as he began circling her. This habit of his was beginning to remind her of a predator, and she did not like the idea of being prey.

"Well?" He stopped directly in front of her, starting to advance.

"I-" She was backing away again.

"I'll tell you why. Because you have nowhere else to go and you figure this is an easy way to fill your belly and pockets. Let me tell you, it isn't, and the sooner you learn that the better off you'll be."

"How have I offended you, Vilkas?" Lysandra demanded, refusing to back away anymore, feeling her hands shaking from nerves. "Since I got here all you've done is act like I'm a thorn in your side. Have we met before? Did I wrong you somehow in the past? Because honestly, this thing you have of despising the ground I walk on is getting to be a bit of a nuisance."

His blank face never changed once, not a hint of anything flickered in those oddly pale eyes. He merely walked directly into her, forcing her to move herself or be trampled. Once she was in the hallway, he shut the door in her face.

"Well good day to you too!"


	3. A Scent of Blood

**3: A Scent of Blood**

"Oh Talos, that hurts…"

"Be still, sister." Aela ordered, her nimble fingers grazing around the arrow shaft coming out of Lysandra's left shoulder. "The head is embedded deep; I will have to make a cut to get it out."

Lysandra simply nodded, knowing there was no way to avoid it and as much as the idea appealed to her –avoiding it that is-, it was best to get it over and done with. Then she could drown the pain out with the mead that flowed rather freely in Jorrvaskr.

"I'll be right back. Try not to move."

That made her snort into the flat pillow on her cot. She had done a job Farkas had offered her, looking for a chance to prove she wasn't just suited for running blades and shields around, and she had done it. However… she had also come back sporting an arrow through her mismatched hide and fur armor that she had scraped from the open assortment from the bin in the yard.

The job had been clearing out the Falmer in Shimmermist Cave, which was a few hours walk northeast of Whiterun. Lysandra, at the time, had no idea what a Falmer was and instead of asking Farkas –who was much more likeable than his brother- she had been an idiot and just left.

She still didn't know what a Falmer was exactly but she did know they were blind. She also knew the blindness didn't handicap the creatures in any way. They were definitely humanoid; she had seen them all wearing a type of loincloth, which was odd. In that they walked upright, sort of, had the same physique as humans and wore that bit of clothing… It made her think that on some level, they were aware of their nakedness and the fact that they weren't animals. Though… they reminded her of bandits in that they attacked automatically, minus the interest in rape if the female –or boy- were considered suitable.

"Alright, I'm back." Aela announced, causing Lysandra's head to swivel to the side, peering at the red-headed Nord woman and the content she was carrying in a small basket in her arms. "I brought Blue Mountain Flower to make a poultice, it'll keep the wound from getting infected."

Lysandra didn't even want to think of how big that wound was going to be by the time Aela was done, turning her head when she next seen a small but very lethal looking knife being pulled from the pack.

"I brought you wine to dull the pain."

For a brief moment, she considered turning it down. To some it would be considered a weakness to try avoiding pain but then again… She took the wine when the flask was placed next to her head on the locker at the end of the bed and swallowed half its contents down quickly, sputtering a third of it back up when she felt the arrow shaft twitch.

"Be still." Aela ordered in a hiss.

Facing forward, Lysandra gripped the sides of the bed, feeling Aela settling herself on the side of bed and then placed one sure hand on the small of her bare back. She lay stomach down on top of an old blanket but clean blanket that looked like it had been used for purposes similar to this many times before. She was nearly bare from the waist up, wearing a pair of brown, dingy hide pants and a band of cloth around her chest.

While she wasn't particularly shy –she had spent a week's time with a group of men after she had been caught crossing the border, all shyness had been lost then- she had still been glad when Aela ordered all the Companions who shared the common room –the Companions who weren't members of the Circle- to go upstairs. Privacy was hard to come by in Jorrvaskr she had learned and she certainly didn't want a group of people watching this, then she might've been stupid and refused the wine.

Aela didn't say a word as she began, too intent on her work and the blood pooling up from where the arrowhead was lodged as she gave the shaft a tentative wiggle. Beneath her, Lysandra tensed, muscles bunching and she scowled. It was obvious from the mostly smooth skin of the Imperial that she probably hadn't ever been seriously injured in her life. This would be the first true scar and Aela hoped that her new shield-sister would be proud of it once it had healed. It was a sign that she had fought a battle and won, that was always cause for pride.

Once she had broken off most of the shaft, Aela reached with steady fingers for the knife. Now came the part that would tell her all she needed to know about Lysandra's mettle.

* * *

><p>"She does not scream." Kodlak noted, not looking up from the journal he wrote in nearly every day.<p>

Vilkas, who had been pacing the floor of what served as Kodlak's library, dining room, receiving room and meeting, shot his Harbringer a dark look. "Perhaps because she is dead." He suggested morbidly, well aware that just down the hall Aela was with the newest initiate.

"You know as well as I that she is not." Kodlak murmured, shooting Vilkas a sideways look. "Just what is it about her that offends you so?"

As he did not have a concrete answer for that, Vilkas didn't give one. Instead, he quit his pacing and turned, walking down the hallway towards the small common room all members of the Companions who weren't in the inner Circle shared.

Once outside the closed door, he halted and pressed his forehead against the cool wood. He could hear her but more importantly, he could smell her. Her blood was racing, he could visualize it pumping through her veins, blood and wine she had ingested.

He had been outside with Farkas when she had returned earlier this evening, both of them scenting the smell of blood and death on her. The blood was both hers and the Falmer's she had dispatched. While Farkas had carried her down below, he had gone for Aela who had been in the Underground.

Right now, Farkas was either at or still on his way to Shimmermist Cave, just to make sure that it had been cleared out. They couldn't always take someone's word and assume the job was done, at least not until the person had proven trustworthy.

A small part of Vilkas wanted the situation to play out like this: she had been approaching the cave, been shot and turned around. She had lied about clearing it out; obviously not thinking anyone would disprove her lie. Then Kodlak would send her back to wherever she had come from and she would marry that fat merchant and have her puny Imperial babies.

The other part of him, the part that had known she was hurt and now alive by scent alone, was literally howling at him for even daring to think that. That part of him had nearly taken over the first time he had caught her scent. He had forced it down and made himself look at her when she had finally appeared, directing herself to Kodlak. Imperial… what was his inner wolf thinking? If _he_ wanted a mate, he could pick himself out a strong Nord woman.

Vilkas snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a muffled shriek followed by Aela's husky laughter and a few muttered oaths.

"There now, you'll have a fine scar and a souvenir to show your grandchildren." The huntress said, the amusement obvious in her tone.

"Oh… thank you, I always wanted an arrowhead, drenched in my own blood and flesh…" Lysandra said weakly.

Vilkas was already walking away. The Imperial was fine and would live to die another die.


	4. Worthy

**4: Worthy**

"You're a werewolf." Lysandra said flatly, staring at Farkas out of wide eyes from behind the gate that had trapped her in a small alcove off of the main room they had entered.

She had been a bit disappointed to learn that even after clearing out Shimmermist Cave, she still wasn't considered worthy to be a full-fledged Companion. Skjor, one of the members of the Circle had given her the chance to prove herself.

He was sending her to Dustman's Cairn in search of a fragment of Wuuthrad, a two-handed axe that had belonged to the Companions founder, Ysgramor. He had sent Farkas with her, to 'judge' her valor in her quest.

Up until right now, they had been doing great. She hadn't royally embarrassed herself by not being able to properly wield her sword or shield. In fact, she was surprised to find that thanks to everyday training with the other Companions –some more worthy than she no doubt- she was becoming quite proficient with the sword. The shield was a rather new addition. She found she was still lacking in strength because she couldn't use it to block properly but enough where she could raise it to somewhat protect her face.

After venturing into this alcove to search a table, she had heard a grating noise, spun around and then found herself trapped. Farkas had said he would find the lever to free her and that's when he had been ambushed.

If she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes, Lysandra would never have believed it. But she had watched the transformation. She had watched as Farkas went from his usual… human shape to… that of a beast.

"Yes." Farkas said quietly, his eyes guarded as he stared through the bars at her.

"Interesting… can you let me out now?"

Nodding, he slipped off to the side.

She supposed the more appropriate reaction would have been to scream in terror but to be honest, while the idea of werewolves in itself was terrifying, the idea of Farkas being one was not. Mostly because she trusted him on some level. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to rip her to shreds.

That and she had faced down a dragon. Pretty much anything after that… eh…

Once the gate was open, she stepped out and stared down at the bodies of the men and women who had attacked him. "Who were they, do you know?"

"Members of the Silver Hand." He said quietly, nudging one of the bodies with the point of his boot. "Somehow they seem to find the fragments of Wuuthrad before us and lie in wait, knowing we will eventually come."

"Who are the-"

"Save your questions for one who can answer them better, little sister." He interrupted gently, holding out a hand to silence her. "For now, let us get on with your quest."

* * *

><p>"Kodlak, what are the Silver Hands?"<p>

Kodlak hesitated in the midst of pouring them each a pewter mug of wine to spare Lysandra an odd look. After returning to Jorrvaskr in victory along with standard wounds –scratches, bruises and nothing broken-, Farkas had vouched for her, she had been completely accepted. Right now was meant to be a small celebratory drink with her, between master and pupil. In a way, that was what she was to him, his pupil. When not training or working, Lysandra spent much of her free time with him if he wasn't busy and in an amendable mood to deal with her. She seemed to enjoy listening to him though he had noticed right from the off, she was a very curious person. The interruptions she made when he was telling her something were generally for the purpose of asking questions.

"They are the… enemies of the Circle." He said slowly, resuming pouring their drink.

She accepted the mug he offered her with a grateful nod, raising it to her lips and took a slow sip. "I noticed they use a lot of silver weapons." She said after a moment in a carefully neutral tone of voice.

Leaning back in his chair, Kodlak studied her over the rim of his own mug. "If you have something to say or if there is something you wish to ask then do so. Do not circle the topic, Lysandra."

"How did Farkas become a werewolf?"

He blinked once then quaffed his wine. "Found out about that, did you now."

"Well, he… changed, in front of me." She said slowly, her eyes dropping to the clean but stained table linen. "Out of necessity." She added as a quick afterthought, blushing slightly as she remembered walking right into that trap with the gate. "I was foolish and set off a trap."

Kodlak kept his face passive though his eyes were beginning to twinkle with amusement.

"The Silver Hand, or members of it, came then and there were too many. He changed then in order to defeat them."

"I see."

Lysandra searched his face for signs of anger or disappointment and found none, feeling more than relieved. She let it slide that he didn't actually answer her question.

* * *

><p>"She did not do it."<p>

Kodlak let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, relief washing over him. "So she knows who we are."

"Don't you mean _what_?" Vilkas corrected sternly.

"Regardless, she knows. Has she spoken to anyone of it?"

"No. She has sworn herself to secrecy."

"And do you believe her?"

Vilkas eyed his Harbringer shrewdly. "I smelled no deceit upon her. She means what she says."

Kodlak simply nodded, turning away while making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Leave me, I need time to think."

Nodding sharply, Vilkas walked away, his own mind racing with almost too many thoughts to process all at once. Deciding she was worthy, Skjor and Aela had taken Lysandra to the Underforge the night before with every intention of inducting her properly into the Circle. The Circle, which was made up of werewolves, had offered her the 'opportunity' to join them, to become what they were.

She had declined.

Vilkas decided right then and there that while she may be puny, well not as puny as she had been but definitely no strapping Nord woman, she wasn't an idiot.


	5. Perception

**A/N:** I was planning on posting this tomorrow or the day after but after all the reviews and story alerts (you guys so rock!) today... yeah, suddenly felt like posting. My apologies for any spelling or grammar issues, sometimes my mind goes a bit too fast for my fingers and I jump words or misspell them. Possible spoilage ahead, some rearranging of quests and a bit of a time jump that doesn't really seem like a time jump :)

**5: Perception**

"Jarl Balgruuf has requested your presence at Dragonsreach."

Lysandra simply stared at her Harbringer, silently holding out a rucksack.

Kodlak knew what was in it and reached out with trembling fingers, not minding the fact that blood was beginning to drip from the bottom of the bag. One look inside confirmed what he already knew, that his protégé had done what she set out to do.

After her refusal to join the Circle as a werewolf, Lysandra had begun taking on jobs. Small ones at first, but as time went on and her skill improved, they all begun giving her larger, more demanding tasks.

Within the months she had been at Jorrvaskr and under the twin's tutelage, she was showing promise at becoming a great warrior. From Aela she was learning how to use a bow and arrow and how to utilize stealth. Vilkas had been the first to mention that she seemed to be rather good at sneaking around, and with a slight hint of condescending in his tone.

Kodlak had laughed himself near senseless when the following night Lysandra followed him around Jorrvaskr for hours, keeping out of sight only to pop out at him whenever the mood took her.

If not for Farkas restraining him, Vilkas might have challenged her to a brawl, several times.

Aela, while disappointed that Lysandra had refused the 'gift', still treated her the same as always and had taken an interest in her training. She had been the one to point out that Lysandra's slender build was never going to make her a great sword swinging warrior which was what Vilkas seemed intent on making her into.

She still couldn't use a shield properly though and had all but given up the idea of attempting it anymore.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Lysandra regarded her Harbringer thoughtfully. "I brought you the heads." She said quietly, pointing out the obvious and making it known she could care less what the Jarl wanted at the moment.

"And you have my thanks, child, but you must not keep him waiting." Kodlak reached out to place a hand on her shoulder when her brown eyes lowered. "We will have time for this later."

Nodding, she turned to go.

* * *

><p>The first and only time she had seen Jarl Balgruuf, Lysandra had been in a bit of a hurry to leave. She hadn't wanted to linger and hear the inevitable discussion over the dragon or what was to come. She had had enough of the present at that moment in time and had been in no shape to even consider the future. Dragons or not.<p>

Naturally, she assumed the only reason she had been called back to Dragonsreach was because of dragons.

As she approached the throne, she was more than aware of the Dunmer watching her. From her limited understanding, the dark elf was the Jarl's personal guard. What was disconcerting were those cold but fiery red eyes, which were currently watching her approach.

When the Dunmer drew her blade, Lysandra immediately came to a halt, having a sense of deja vous as this was exactly what had happened before.

"Irileth, let her approach."

She remained staring at the elf, Irileth, waiting until the sword was lowered but not put away before walking up the steps until she was a few feet from the Jarl, dropping to one knee in a sign of respect before rising again.

He looked momentarily amused by her action, a fleet smile crossing his face before disappearing and being replaced with something contemplative. "You have changed much in the months since you first came to Whiterun." He observed, his gaze running over her in a way that was much different from the men she had known back home.

Nord men, well most of them, seemed to appraise a woman as something than just a warm body and pretty face. They looked for signs of strength and marks of courage and prowess –such as the scar she liked to keep hidden. She was still debating on if they valued courage more than honor or vice versa, perhaps the two were tied.

She stood there quietly under his scrutiny, aware that in the months that had passed she had fleshed up a bit thanks to foods of heavy breads and meat along. The way Aela and Vilkas liked to work her when she wasn't doing a job kept her metabolism running on high so the food either burned off or was converted into muscle.

"I have heard that you are becoming quite… useful." Balgruuf said, his tone going from something she couldn't place to diplomatic. "I believe you may be of use to my wizard, Farengar."

"Me?" She blinked, finally opening her mouth for that one simple, stupid word.

"Yes, you, woman. You survived a dragon attack and that alone makes you the forefront candidate for this… task. Now you are not so helpless and weak, yes?"

She nodded stiffly.

* * *

><p>"Bleak Falls Barrow." Kodlak repeated, staring up at Lysandra from the edge of his bed. When she had returned to Jorrvaskr, the first thing she had done was to seek him out and inform him of the Jarl's… request…. for assistance. "What exactly is he sending you there for?"<p>

"Technically, he is not, his wizard is and for a Dragon Stone."

The Harbringer had to digest that for a moment or two, shaking his head wearily. "You can't refuse him, you'll have to go."

"But what about your-"

"Service to the Jarl comes first."

Nodding, she backed towards the door.

"Take Vilkas with you."

"But, Kodlak, he hates me!"

"Bleak Falls Barrow is an ancient temple and chances are, if it's been opened, there are bandits inside. If not, then… who knows? Our ancestors were very protective of their secrets. He goes."

* * *

><p>"Don't touch it."<p>

Lysandra halted in reaching for the lever she assumed would open the gate to let them through and shot her companion a sideways glance. He had barely spoken two words to her since they had set out for the temple nor since they had come inside. The fact that he was speaking now made her listen.

Vilkas wasn't looking at her but above them, his nearly white eyes narrowed at the ceiling. Silently, he raised a finger, pointing.

Following his gaze, it took her a few moments to realize what he was showing her, deciding he must have seen them so clearly because of his… condition. "Oh."

The ceiling was riddled with holes and inside each hole, in the dim torchlight; she could make out glints of something shiny. Something deadly. Something that probably would have shredded her painfully if she had pulled the lever.

"That, Imperial," Vilkas said gruffly, now walking away from her in order to examine some pillars with strange carvings on them. "was your first lesson in perception and observance. I hope you learned it well."


	6. Something Strange

_Puppykitty:_ Thank you! I knew something was off with that but I never double-checked.  
><em>Compa:<em> Yeah, I did that and had no idea what was killing me for a moment until I looked up!  
><em>PirateA:<em> I'm an Ulfric fan too and it's getting worse as I play, the man both ****** me off and makes me adore him at the same time.  
>Thank you everyone for the reviews, glad you like it so far! Figured I'd post tonight since I'm on a 'debate' break from Skyrim. Vilkas might have… run into a fireball I was 'shouting' and been killed… the debate is: do I keep going or reload? Hmm, decisions, decisions. Enjoy!<p>

**6: Something Strange**

"Idiot." Lysandra sighed, watching as the Dunmer took off running, while peeling the sticky webbing off his freshly freed body. "Should I have killed him instead of cutting him down?" She asked, glancing up at Vilkas who was also watching the other man's progress.

"No." Vilkas gave an abrupt shake of his head, his dark brown, nearly black hair falling over his ears with the movement. "He offered you information in exchange for his freedom and you gave it to him. He failed to uphold his end of the arrangement."

"So...?"

"So now you may kill him and it won't be a stain on your honor."

She didn't really relish the idea of killing someone but… nocking an arrow in her hunting bow, she took aim, wondering if she would be able to make the shot. Arvel had already made it to the end of the dimly lit stone burial chamber.

A rustling followed by a soft growling noise made her freeze.

"Draugr." Vilkas whispered, reaching out to place two fingers on her wrist, gesturing for her to lower the bow. "Warriors from olden time who are neither living nor dead…"

Lysandra held her breath, watching as the undead thing stalked after Arvel. She almost felt bad when it cut him down.

Smiling, Vilkas began creeping after the Draugr, sword in hand.

* * *

><p><em>What is that<em>… Lysandra wondered as she circled the massive stone crypt. She already had a rather good guess at what was in the crypt, another Draugr no doubt. It was the wall behind the crypt that held her attention.

There were strange markings on it, like words etched into the stone but none of them were words she was familiar with. It seemed like the wall was whispering to her, beckoning her close and she swore she seen one of the words flash a soft blue-white color.

"Do you hear it?" She asked after a moment, glancing over her shoulder at Vilkas who was now studying the sarcophagus intently.

"Hear what?" He didn't even look at her.

"It's whispering… I think." She turned her attention back to the wall, brow furrowing in concentration. She felt like there was wind rushing through her ears along with that whispering and the word was brightening to the point of everything else around it becoming dark.

"Whispering?" He echoed, whirling around to see just what she was talking about. Vilkas wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing since her eyes appeared to be half shut from his vantage point. What he was seeing was her standing there next to an old, odd looking wall with etchings all over it.

What made him start towards her was the fact that while she was standing still, her shoulder length auburn hair was whirling about her head as if caught in a small windstorm. He couldn't hear the 'whispering' as she called it but even he could tell something was happening.

"Oh!" She gasped, eyes opening suddenly and shuddered violently, her hands flying to her head.

"Lysandra?" Vilkas was almost near her when he heard what had become a familiar sound from behind. The sound of heavy stone hitting more stone and he twirled about, sword at the ready. It was another Draugr only this one was better armed and his armor was that of a lord and not a mere soldier.

His eyes widening in anticipation, Vilkas moved forward to attack his new opponent, feeling his lips curving upwards into a grim smile.

* * *

><p>"You said my name."<p>

"What?"

Lysandra wasn't thrown by Vilkas' sharp tone or the equally sharp look he had sent her way. "You said my name."

Frowning, he returned his stare to the low burning fire he had built. After the battle with the Draugr, he had turned to find Lysandra staring at him in confusion, as if she had just woken up. Not bothering to immediately find out just what had caused her to act out of sorts; he had pulled her out of the barrow and started back towards Whiterun.

Only when he realized that he was actually dragging her did he stop. She was half-dead on her feet and still looking dazed. He had built a small fire to ward off the chill, not that he minded it but she was an Imperial after all, and settled down for to wait for morning. He would take watch, sleeping was a necessity but one that brought him no respite, no true rest.

When he didn't offer any immediate reply, Lysandra waited, folding her arms over her chest and reclined back against the rock she was resting against. "It's the first time you've said it, you know."

He just grunted.

"It was odd… that wall… Did you hear the whispering?"

"All I heard, Imperial, was you asking me that very same question."

"Oh."

Curiosity got the better of him as he remembered the way she had simply been standing there, the way her hair had moved. "What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You said you heard whispering."

"I did, only… it wasn't whispering, not just at least. It also sounded like wind, rushing through me. The words on the stone… one of them stood out, it was… glowing."

Lysandra nodded, not looking at him so she missed the skeptical look on his face. She didn't know how to describe it so she wasn't going to bother trying. It just… felt like something had taken residence in her skull, a pressure between her temples and she didn't know how to get rid of it. It wasn't painful, it was just uncomfortable, disconcerting.

Vilkas didn't ask any more questions and she didn't say anything else. They both just sat and stared at the fire until Lysandra finally dozed, her head tilted back at an uncomfortable angle against the stone.

Once he was certain she was asleep, he quietly crept over to crouch down in front of her. Bracing his hands on the rock she was resting against, Vilkas leaned forward; his nose mere inches from her face and inhaled deeply.

When they had exited Bleak Falls Barrows, he had attributed the slight change in her scent to lingering odors brought with them from inside. But now… it was still on her person and as he took another breath, he realized that it was… inside her, whatever had happened in there, it had changed her scent.

Wrinkling his nose, he retreated, the beast inside of him raging fiercely.


	7. Dragon!

**Lacy:** After thinking about it, I decided that I had to move on with my life and pray Farkas never found out. To the best of my knowledge, Vilkas is still lying somewhere at the base of a mountain. I'm one of those people who 'saves when she remembers too' and reloading the game would have cost me quite a bit of completed missions. Poor Vilkas.

_I'm sad to further report that Lydia was on the wrong end of a very wide swing with Wuuthrad… and Iona was caught in my experimentation of the Storm Call shout…._

**DialACow:** I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that the Companions are the first 'guild' players run into as well as one of the first quest lines that is started. Or can be.

**QuickNote:** Sorry if this appears in alerts twice, I was skimming through it and noticed several errors!

**7: Dragon!**

"You, Imperial, follow me!"

Lysandra blinked in surprise when the Whiterun guard bellowed at her, gesturing her forward and then ran off. She and Vilkas had been making their way up the stone steps that led to the Cloud District of Whiterun when he –the guard- had appeared.

Vilkas simply shrugged his massive shoulders when she shot him a bemused look. "You had better go." He said flatly, frowning and stepped aside when several guards darted past them. "I'll come with you." He then added, watching the guards as they headed for the gate. Obviously something was happening.

Nodding, Lysandra started jogging towards Dragonsreach.

* * *

><p>The Jarl's castle was in disarray. Servants were running towards the stairwells that led down into the lower chambers and dungeons while Jarl Bulgruuf was bellowing orders, Irileth following his every move agitatedly.<p>

"Farengar! What good are you, wizard, if your magic cannot help us?" Balgruuf demanded, whirling on his court mage.

"My Jarl… you- She's here, the woman you-"

Lysandra nearly cringed when Balgruuf rounded on her next, feeling Vilkas right behind her and steadied herself. "I brought you the Dragon Stone, Jarl." She said in a mostly even voice when he was close enough to hear her without needing to shout.

"Damn the stone, give it to that worthless wretch who calls himself a mage!" Bulgruuf growled, all but ripping the small sack she held out to him, passing it immediately off to Farengar who then vacated the main hall. "A dragon's just been sighted circling over the farms outside the gates."

Lysandra's heart plummeted at those words. "Dragon?" She echoed in a muted tone, pretty certain they –she and Vilkas, had not seen a dragon overheard when coming in. Dragons were pretty noticeable.

"Yes, a dragon, did I not just say that?"

"When was it spotted?" Vilkas asked, sounding much more calm then either of them.

"Within the past few minutes, I'm sending Irileth out and I want you to meet her." Balgruuf directed that towards Lysandra, and then glanced at Vilkas. "You're a Companion? Your aid would help greatly."

"You shall have it, Jarl."

* * *

><p>Dragon. It all started with a dragon and it looked like it was about to end with a dragon. Lysandra figured she had already used up most of her good luck when she had survived not only the chopping block but the dragon who had torched said chopping block. She wasn't going to go another round with a new dragon and survive, fate wasn't that kind.<p>

Vilkas had gone to Jorrvaskr to recruit the other Companions for the battle while she had gone on ahead to meet up with Irileth. Irileth gave a short but apparently rousing speech to the guard and like idiots; they had all run out the gates.

She had followed, keeping an eye on them but also staying away from them. If there was a dragon, and they were running like fools in one large band, then she preferred not to be a part of their moving target.

She heard the creature before she seen it. Its massive wings beating the air and the roar it gave as it seen its mobile meal approach cued her to the general location. Then it appeared and Lysandra automatically came to a stop, crouching low. She swallowed down bile, glad she hadn't eaten anything yet today because undoubtedly it would be all over the ground before her.

Feeling helpless, she tried to remember Helgen, how the guard there had taken on the dragon. She supposed it didn't really matter as the blasted beast had rained fire from above and destroyed Helgen along with most of its inhabitants.

_There hadn't been much of a chance against it_, she thought sourly, eyes watching the dragon as it looped through the sky, taking its time in attacking. The problem was, dragons had the advantage of being able to attack from the sky with their ability to breathe fire. They could kill at their leisure and arrows… well; she did recall seeing arrows bouncing off the tough scales that made up its built in armor.

Their best chance was to somehow ground the dragon…

Lysandra shrieked when columns of fire began igniting the high grass directly before her and threw herself sideways into an ungainly roll. The fire caught and began spreading; she could hear cries coming from the others and shrieks of 'water', knowing all it would take was a good strong wind to begin spreading it towards the farms.

They needed to ground the dragon before it flew towards the city.

Trying not to wet herself, she began running madly for the watchtower. It was hard not to think of Helgen, or the similarities between what had happened there and what she was doing now. Such as… running up a circular staircase. Only this time, she wasn't looking to escape a dragon but attack one.

It was hard to think clearly, whenever the dragon roared or spewed its flame, the sound was deafening and paralyzing. Her knees were threatening to give out under her and she was pretty sure whatever spine she had was now mush. She felt like a weak, puny Imperial woman, she'd have to inform Vilkas of that later, he'd be pleased to know he was right.

From the top of the tower however, she had a great view of the disaster that was occurring on the ground. Arrows were being fired as quickly as possible and everyone was scattering when the majority came rebounding back.

One arrow in particular caught her eye as it zinged towards one massive wing and… pierced it. She dropped her own bow in order to clamp both hands over her ears when the dragon let out what sounded like… a curse, a curse of pain and outrage.

Letting out her own curse, she retrieved the bow and leaned over the stones, trying to make herself heard over all the noise. "Aim for its wings!"

She wasn't sure if she had been heard but there was no more time for warnings, now it was time to act.


	8. Fate

**8: Fate**

Lysandra could hear the guards shouting in joy, relishing their victory. She couldn't even manage a small smile; her face was too busy being contorted in a grimace. They had won the battle against the dragon with only one casualty and a lot of burns. In one her case, a slight burn on her left arm and a lot of scraped skin.

The dragon had flew at the tower, slamming its body into it and she had fallen over the small ledge she had been using as a precarious perch to fire arrows. Fate had been really out to mess with her because she had landed on the dragon's neck.

Those scales were definitely as sturdy as they looked, and rough. As she had clung to its neck to keep herself from falling the rest of the way to the ground below, its scales had torn through some of the thinner parts of her hide and fur armor and then gotten to work on her skin. She had let go almost immediately and frantically reached for her sword with some vague idea of what she was going to do.

Either more arrows had struck its wings or it had just gotten tired of her hitching a ride but the dragon had landed and that had been when Irileth ordered the true assault. Swords and great axes had gone to work and she had never been so happy to see dirt.

Except there was no way for her to get down, not without risking being flattened to death, or perhaps ripped from one to the other by sharp teeth and sharper claws. So she had held on with one thankfully gloved hand and used her free hand to start jabbing with her sword.

Somehow, they had gotten lucky and the dragon had been slain. She had slid off the thing, rolled several feet away and was now currently still in her face to the sky position.

"It's… it's burning!"

Groaning wearily, she turned her head, eyes widening. The fresh corpse wasn't so much as burning as… incinerating. The flesh was incinerating and leaving behind a clean skeleton.

"What sort of sorcery is this?"

Irileth snorted. "As long as it's dead, I do not care."

Lysandra heard the whispering again. The same whispering she had heard at Bleak Falls Barrow, only… it was a bit stronger this time and it did not rush upon her immediately. Then she felt the wind, bringing the whispers to and through her.

The throbbing in her head from whatever had occurred in the barrow had intensified and then suddenly everything went white-hot with pain, temporarily blinding her. It was over almost as soon as it happened and her head… was no longer throbbing.

Instead, there was a new sensation, a slight pressure in her chest. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable, but it hadn't been there before.

"She's glowing, by the Eight, she is!"

Before she could even begin to understand what had just happened, the guardsmen were surrounding her, pulling her to her feet.

"It's gone but…"

"I swear, looks like she took it in herself, it did!"

"Absorbed its essence!"

All Lysandra could do was look around in confusion as they began calling her 'Dragonborn'. She was never going to understand Nords, that much was clear.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand… what is Dragonborn?"<p>

Jarl Balgruuf looked at Lysandra like she had taken leave of her wits. "You do not know?"

She shook her head, staring at him from across the small table they were dining at. After being badgered until she managed to do what the men had called a 'Shout', she had been told to 'return to the Jarl' by Irileth. She had been too dazed at the time to disobey the Dunmer's orders and had done a limping sort of run all the way here.

On the way she had done a tumble out of sheer shock and fear when a loud, reverberating noise had rent the air and shook the ground. It sounded a bit like what she had done only on a much louder, more terrifying scale and entirely on purpose.

Once in Dragonsreach, Balgruuf had announced that the Greybeards were calling while giving her a speculative look. When she had said nothing but simply turned an interesting shade of red, he had assumed –correctly- that she was reason for it.

"Dragonborn is one who is able to speak in the language of the Dragons, to Shout. You did Shout, yes?"

Lysandra remembered feeling the two pressures merging together, residing deep in her chest. When the men had been clamoring for her to 'Shout' she had had no idea what they had wanted or meant. She had been tired, in pain and still rather scared, for several reasons. She had opened her mouth to yell at them and… wound up Shouting, sending them flying backwards.

When she finally nodded, Balgruuf grunted and speared a piece of mutton on his fork. "So you will go see the Greybeards, it was you they summoned, wo- what is your name?"

Now that was a first. So far, the majority of people called her Imperial or woman if they were men. "Lysandra, my Jarl."

"Enough with the 'my Jarl', when it is the two of us, you may call me Balgruuf." It was partly an order, partly a request. "Now, Lysandra, you will have to answer the Greybeards summons. As soon as you are able, you must leave for High Hrothgar."

"For where?" She demanded, mildly alarmed.

"High Hrothgar, I will mark it on your map for you."

"I don't have a map."

Balgruuf rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'idiot woman'.

* * *

><p>"Vilkas, where were you?" Lysandra demanded as she climbed the steps to Jorrvaskr, a frown on her face. He was standing at the top, staring down at her and the expression on her face made her slow her steps. "Vilkas?"<p>

"Kodlak," he whispered hoarsely.

An icy fist clenched her heart and gave a squeeze.

"Kodlak is dead."


	9. Tonight

**9: Tonight**

"It was those Silver Hand bastards." Aela said, sounding hoarse with emotion. Her eyes were wet with tears though she allowed none to fall. "They took advantage of the guard being out of the city fighting off the dragon to attack. Everyone was distracted and they knew it. They must have been waiting for a while for some type of diversion because they never would have come into Whiterun while the guards were on their regular patrols."

Lysandra simply listened, not up for doing much else. She was in shock, her own face wet from the silent tears she wasn't bothering to hide. Hunched over Kodlak's body were Farkas and Vilkas, the two men gently trying to lessen the damage his murderers had left with bowls of water and cloth.

One of the maids and a Companion had been slaughtered as well, but the proof of the their questionable triumph was evident by the number of Silver Hand's lying dead about the lodge.

When Eorlund appeared, murmuring something about preparing the body, she stepped back as the Circle took over. When they lifted Kodlak's body of the ground, she slipped away, unable to watch.

* * *

><p>"Where were you?"<p>

Lysandra nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Vilkas' rough growl, whirling around to find him leaning in the door of the common room she shared with the other, non-Circle, Companions. It was empty as everyone else had gone upstairs, no doubt discussing what had happened only hours ago and debating on what came next. She had taken advantage to have a little time to herself.

"Where were you?" He repeated, stepping inside the room and moving towards her.

He seemed to take up the entire space though he was, for once, not wearing his armor. He wore a simple pair of tanned hide pants and a coarse linen shirt, and it registered briefly that what she had assumed to be a massive size was no more than all the fur and steel. Not to say he wasn't large because he was, most Nord men were, just not as… her train of thought was brought firmly back on track when he took yet another step forward.

"Why weren't you here, Lysandra?" Vilkas demanded, sidestepping into her path when she made a move to circle him, his hands flying out to catch hold of her upper arms. "When _he_ needed you?"

Lysandra had never really felt intimidated by Vilkas before. She had known from the get-go that he didn't like or approve of her, but she had hoped to have been making progress towards getting him to at least tolerate her. Regardless of his personal feelings, he had never made her feel threatened, not even after she had found out he had a bit of a fuzzy side, literally. Right now, at this very moment, she was intimidated.

"I was with the guard, Vilkas." She said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering and ruining the even tone in her voice. "Fighting the dragon?"

His eyes were wild as he stared down at her, his grip tightening painfully before he abruptly released her and stepped back.

She immediately began rubbing her hands in an effort to ease the ache that was futile but also an instinctual reaction, never looking away from him. "Vilkas…"

"The dragon… I had forgotten…" He cleared his throat, all anger leaving him.

Lysandra could only watch as he walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>This was probably even more idiotic than going off to fight a dragon. At least she knew what to expect from the dragon. Fire, ear piercing noise and a chance of death. Vilkas… she never had any idea, he was so volatile. Only an hour ago in the common room had proven that.<p>

She hesitated outside his door, remembering the last time she had been in here. The one and only time, he had slammed the door in her first. Maybe this was a bad idea…

"I can smell you, woman."

For the second time that night, she about left her skin. Taking a deep breath, Lysandra cautiously opened the door and stepped inside the dimly lit room. It took her a moment to spot Vilkas and when she did; her eyes automatically went to the floor while color flooded her face.

He wore nothing but a loin cloth and mercifully the poor lighting kept her from seeing too much of him, but it had been enough.

"Either you haven't been with many men or are a virgin." He observed, sounding darkly amused. "Farkas calls you new blood, perhaps it should be unblooded, eh?"

"You're drunk."

"Not quite yet."

Lysandra shifted uncomfortably, knowing whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. "I came to… to make sure you were alright."

He was silent.

"After earlier…"

"I should have remembered… I promised the Jarl aid and-"

"You couldn't have known they would attack then."

"I should have." Vilkas muttered, pushing himself out of his chair, taking his bottle of mead with him. "Aela and Skjor attacked the Silver Hands in their forts, where they lived, I should have expected retaliation. Kodlak… did."

She leaned back against the wall, easing herself down until she was sitting on the floor and drew her knees up to her chest.

"He knew they would come eventually… and yet, we still weren't prepared. I- I came in and was getting our shield-siblings ready for battle with the dragon when they attacked. They went right for the Harbringer."

Lysandra buried her face in her knees, all too easily envisioning how it had played out.

"We will hunt them down now, the Circle, perhaps even you." He fell silent, contemplating the mead in his hand before crouching down in front of her.

Slowly, she raised her head. The bottle was directly in her face, he was offering her a drink.

Vilkas watched as she took a slow, cautious sip. "Tonight Imperial, we drink to Kodlak and then… we avenge him."


	10. Driftshade Refuge

**A/N:** So I took a bit of a break from writing in order to devote time to getting things out of the way so I can be a total slacker once Xmas vacay starts. I define slacking as: writing fan fic, playing on the PS3, and not waking up at 8 AM. Then I seen a bunch of story alerts in my email today and felt a bit bad for not doing an update in the normal 24-32 hour period… So here we are!

**PirateA:** No, he has no idea she's the Dragonborn, the whole Kodlak thing *sniffles* put that on hold. As for the main quests, I just now (well, several days ago, took a break from Skyrim to prove I am not Its b*tch, really having withdrawal atm) finished of Alduin's Wall and meeting Paarthurnax on the Main quest side, done only a few Civil War quests but I have a general idea of how I'm going to intertwine them and still keep it realistic.

**Mara: **Thanks! Glad you like the portrayal of Vilkas, Bethesda laid out the blueprint and hopefully I can stick with it while at the same time expanding his character. Also glad you like Lysandra, hoping to keep her 'real'.

**Chloroplasts: **Actually, it has been pointed out, but thank you! I had a brain fart during the first chapter and *knew* something was wrong with it but… meh. I did go back and change it to Cyrodiil. :)

Thank you guys for the reviews and story alerts, and now on with the show…

* * *

><p><strong>10: Driftshade Refuge<strong>

* * *

><p>What was supposed to have been the entire Circle wound up just being Vilkas and Lysandra. Eorlund had been the one to put a stop to everyone going, stating in his sometimes insulting, take no prisoner's manner that the Silver Hand might come back. They would know the Companions would be at their weakest with the Harbringer dead and perhaps even lost enough in their grief to do something stupid. Such as the entire Circle leaving the rest of the Companions alone and at risk.<p>

The journey took nearly the entire day, and that seemed too please Vilkas. She quickly learned his pleasure was derived from the fact that they would have the cover of night to launch their attack in.

"We'll rest a few hours and then go in." He announced in a soft whisper, gesturing for her to stop.

Unused to walking such distances, Lysandra was pleased to hear that and immediately dropped to the ground, not caring if she was sitting in snow.

"Imperial…" He rolled his eyes and the only reason she could see it was because they were practically glowing. "Here." He pulled his fur cloak –something she had been curious to see him sporting- off his shoulders and lay it out. "Wouldn't want you to catch ill, puny woman that you are."

Given that this was a rather considerate gesture, she ignored the insult and rolled onto all fours before sitting on her knees and reaching back to wipe the snow off herself. Once settled on the hide, she hugged her knees to her chest. "What's the plan?"

"You sleep and I will wake you when it is time. We'll discuss a plan then."

"I don't think I can sleep, Vilkas." Not when they weren't too far off from a fort full of Silver Hands who would not think twice about butchering them.

He settled besides her, eyes fastened on the stone building. "Perhaps some mead?" He offered, a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

That was just mean and she almost punched him in the arm. When she had woken up this morning, on his bedroom floor no less, she had had the most horrible hangover. Much to her chagrin, he had seemed just fine. Moody as usual, perhaps a bit depressed, but fine. If not for Farkas taking pity and offering her an herbal potion meant to alleviate the worst side-effects from a night of drinking, she probably would have found a corner to curl up in and die.

"No?"

"You're not even remotely funny."

"I suppose not." He glanced down at her, frowning slightly. "How did the battle go yesterday?"

"With the dragon?"

"Did you fight many battles yesterday?"

He was really getting quite good with the sarcasm thing and Lysandra did punch him this time around, injuring her knuckles and just causing him to snort in derision.

"Obviously, it went well, you are alive."

"It… was… How do you describe a fight? Against a dragon no less?"

"Exhilarating. Fierce."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I would actually use terrifying and hot."

"You sound like a coward."

"Am I one?"

He considered that, finally shaking his head. "No. You're no Nord, but you're more than just a spineless Imperial. Perhaps someday I will even call you warrior."

Scowling, she looked away from him. One moment he could almost pass as kind and the next she wanted to throttle him. "What else are we here for?"

"Fragments of Wuuthrad. Try to rest and quit talking; you'll draw attention to us."

"Too damn cold to rest." She grumbled, smirking slightly before leaning into him, nudging him before pulling away. "You could always turn into a dog and I could use you for heat."

He bared his teeth at her, not finding that as amusing as she found it.

"Or not."

* * *

><p>The plan had been: she fired with her bow from afar while he cleared the area surrounding the fort. She had joined him in circling, trying to count how many there were and listening as he very quietly explained weak points in their armor. Those were the spots she needed to aim for, even if it wasn't a killing shot, it could be an incapacitating one.<p>

The plan had gone: she had aimed too high and wound up overshooting. Which had alerted the sentries to their presence and forced Vilkas to rush the would-be killers.

The plan had gone: she had aimed too high and wound up overshooting. Which had alerted the sentries to their presence and forced Vilkas to rush the would-be killers.

Scared out of her mind, Lysandra dropped her bow and took off after him. She was more afraid of him dying because of her mistake than her dying because of her being an idiot. Considering she had somehow managed to live through a second dragon attack, she figured ultimate irony would be taking an arrow to the knee, crawling away and then dying of an infection somewhere in this forsaken, cold country. Talos knew she wasn't going to die a hero's death, or even one that would be mildly interesting –obviously, she had lived through two dragons, no hero's death for her.

"Behind you, Imperial!" He shouted when he seen her coming.

So they were back to Imperial… Lysandra barely had time to register that thought as she whipped around, drawing her sword in a very unsmooth motion. "Thanks, Nord!" She shouted back, barely managing to save her own life while taking another.

* * *

><p>"You look like you bathed in blood."<p>

Vilkas looked up from the fragments of Wuuthrad he was wrapping in a cloth and eyeballed her. "You do too."

Curling her lip, Lysandra looked down at herself, knowing no amount of scrubbing was going to get all this blood and gore out of her armor. They had gone throughout Driftshade Refuge from top to bottom –literally- and cleared out every Silver Hand they came across.

They had also come across several caged werewolves. Lysandra had reluctantly mentioned freeing them only for Vilkas to scoff at her, muttering something about them being 'feral' and likely to attack as soon as they were loose.

That had been cemented when she had gotten too close to the bars and was met with a clawed paw –or hand, what did they call them?- darting for her head. Vilkas had pulled her out of harm's way and then informed her that there were easier ways to die.

"Now what?"

He reverently eased the parcel into his satchel and tucked it beneath his armor, staring at her.

Lysandra watched as the remaining blood lust faded from his pale eyes only to be replaced with sadness. She inwardly cringed at her own gaffe, knowing what came next. Next they returned to Whiterun to pay their final respects to Kodlak and a hard lump formed in the back of her throat at the thought of seeing him… dead. "Vilkas, I-"

He simply shook his head as he walked past her, halting in order to place a heavy hand on her shoulder. "We should go."

She nodded, feeling him squeeze gently before letting go.


	11. Disconnected

**11: Disconnected**

"Lysandra, you cannot put off the Greybeards for much longer."

"Jarl, with all due respect, I don't think this is the place for this conversation." Lysandra whispered, watching from the corner of her eye as the Circle members one by one approached the forge, where Kodlak's body rested, burning. She flinched, startled, when he rested a heavy hand on her shoulder, turning her gaze up to him.

"It is coincidental, is it not, that where the first dragon sighted in Skyrim in hundreds of years, is the same exact place you happened to be?" He said just as quietly, his expression grim. "And then, another dragon emerges, where you happen to be."

Her brow furrowed, not liking where he was going with this.

"Then you took its very soul into you."

"I-"

"Lysandra, I am not telling you to go right this very moment." He squeezed gently then let go. "I'm saying you should go soon."

* * *

><p>"Woman."<p>

"I have a name, Vilkas."

He rolled his eyes. "Come with me, Lysandra."

Sighing, she stood up from her bed, ignoring the speculative looks she received from her roommates as she followed him out of the common room. She hadn't spoken to him since returning to Jorrvaskr. After Kodlak's funeral, the members of the Circle had retreated to the Underforge and remained there for an entire night.

She, and everyone else, had retreated inside to try to sleep. In the case of some, mead had helped. For her, mead wasn't an option, she had made herself a promise she was never drinking again. Ever. So sleep had not been in her cards.

"Where are we going?" She asked, expecting him to lead her further down the hallway, instead he headed for the stairs. "Vilkas?"

"The Circle wishes to speak with you."

That sounded ominous and she sincerely hoped she wasn't about to be asked to rethink her decision to join their… furry association. "Vilkas, is-"

"Quiet, woman." He ordered softly, his eyes slowly moving towards Athis who wasn't hiding the fact that he was trying to listen in from his perch against a wall.

Falling silent, she simply followed him.

* * *

><p>"Vilkas, stop!" Lysandra ordered, having been following him for the past hour. He had led her out of Whiterun and then started down the road heading north. "Please, give me a moment…"<p>

The pace he had set was something just short of a run, much harder than when they had gone to Driftshade Refuge, and factor in her sleepless night… she wasn't operating in peak condition. Not caring if he stopped, she did, easing herself down onto the side of the road.

Growling, he turned and walked back towards her, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. The sun was beginning to rise and he knew farmers would soon be traveling towards Whiterun to hawk their wares in the market. "We don't have time for this." He informed her.

"You're the one who dragged me out here without telling me what's going on." She reminded him, scowling. "So… why don't you take this period to do that, hmm? I rest, you talk."

"We're going to Ysgramor's Tomb, north of Winterhold."He said finally, taking his first good look at her since… well, since Driftshade. Ever since returning and attending Kodlak's funeral, he felt disconnected. That wasn't helped by his inner beast howling at him for release. He had taken a vow with Kodlak to not turn the monster loose, to hunt for the cure, which was what Lysandra had been helping Kodlak with.

She was still in her bedclothes, he realized, eyes widening ever so slightly. Her bedclothes consisted of a pair of obviously hand-me-down, faded brown hide pants and a matching vest. He was assuming hand-me-down from Aela because it looked like something she had once worn.

"You're not wearing shoes." He said, rather dumbly.

Lysandra shot him a dirty look, busy massaging her bare, sore feet. "If you would have taken a moment to properly explain what we were doing and where we were going, I would have been able to, you know, dress for traveling in my amour, put on some shoes… bring my bloody sword!"

Vilkas was no longer feeling disconnected.

Lysandra just continued glaring up at him.

* * *

><p>"Windhelm." Vilkas announced as they neared the bridge that led into the city. "Once the capitol of the Empire and now just another… territory of Skyrim."<p>

Lysandra, to be honest, didn't care about the history at this very moment. She was more interested in finding a place with walls and a roaring fire, she swore she couldn't feel her fingers. Trekking here had taken the better part of the day, mostly because she had to keep stopping. Vilkas had bought a pair of cloth shoes from a traveling wagon and a hide to keep her warm but that had done little for the fatigue.

"We will stay the night here, in an inn." He guided her across the bridge, wrapping an arm around her to steady her when a particularly strong gust of wind caused her to stumble. "And I will get you proper clothing."

"And a sword."

"And a sword."

* * *

><p>Lysandra had never been more uncomfortable in her life. Not when she had been arrested as a spy. Not when she had been injured. Not even when Vilkas had carted her out of Whiterun in her bedclothes.<p>

Surrounded by all these… Nords… in what was obviously a strictly-Nord bar… with them all regarding her suspiciously… she was very, very uncomfortable.

When a few drunken men began whispering loudly and aiming dark looks her way, she figured she'd wait outside for Vilkas to return. Wrapping her fur about her, she turned and scurried down the steps to the main level of the inn and out into the bitter night. Cold was preferable over a confrontation. She didn't fight drunkards and she certainly wasn't about to fight because of an issue over her race and location of birth.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She apologized almost the second she was out the door, having stumbled down the icy stone steps and right into a Dunmer. Her face reddened when she realized she had made him drop what looked like a basket of produce. "Here, let me-"

"No, I've got it." He grunted, already stooping to retrieve the vegetables. When she began helping him, he looked at her in surprise, taking her features in through the light cast from the torches. "You're an Imperial."

"And you are an elf."

"And you're an elf lover!"

The pain followed almost immediately after that snarled proclamation as a hard boot connected with her ribs. She rolled away, hands clutching her side and going down the rest of steps that led to the hard, cold ground. Though a pain induced, tear filled gaze, she seen one of the men from the inn approaching her. One of the drunk men who had been giving her the evil eye.

"Let her alone!" The Dunmer ordered, darting towards the Nord only to wind up being knocked backwards.

"An elf loving Imperial, just the kind we don't need-"

"What goes on here?"

That voice sounded so familiar was Lysandra's last thought before the combination of what was probably a cracked rib and the fatigue of the past several days overtook her.


	12. Second Encounters of a Closer Kind

**12: Second Encounters of a Closer Kind**

"Hold still, young woman, you have nothing I haven't seen before."

Lysandra had woken up in a very soft, comfortable bed with an old man in a faded robe with a grey beard leaning over her. She had immediately begun shrieking when she realized she was naked beneath a woolen blanket and the top of the blanket was folded over, leaving her torso bare.

At his words, she stilled, reluctantly, trying to take inventory of her position. The last thing she remembered was being kicked and…

"Is she awake?"

That voice!

"One moment, if you please. Remove yourself from the room, the girl is indecent."

Lysandra wanted nothing more than to curl up under the blanket and die.

* * *

><p>It was his nightly custom to walk the streets of Windhelm, with a single guard as he preferred not to draw attention to himself on these strolls. He wanted to see his city but he did not want to see his city during the day, that was when it was at its most ugly. Or so he had originally thought. After this night, he might change that opinion.<p>

Walking towards the inn, he had heard a slurred shout about someone being an 'elf lover' and turned in time to see one of the locals kicking a woman who was on her hands and knees right in the ribs. The 'elf lover' part was made clear when he seen a Dunmer shout something and then wind up being shoved aside, then noting the spilled fruits and vegetables. From there it had been easy to surmise what had happened. She had been helping the elf, the drunk had seen it and lashed out like the fool he apparently was.

Ulfric had intervened and lifted the woman into a semi-standing position, turning her so he could get a look at her face.

He had recognized her instantly and been more than surprised to find the Imperial woman from Helgen, even more surprised to find her alive.

Now she was lying in his palace, in his bedroom, in his bed. Ulfric was not used to being told what to do but Wuunferth was perhaps the only person he would let get away with it. Though being kicked out of his own bedroom chafed a little.

"You may go in now, Ulfric." Wuunferth said, emerging from the room and rousing the Jarl from his thoughts. "Well, actually, I would give it another moment; she was getting ready to dress."

"How is she?"

"She'll live, it was a fractured rib and I've healed it. You're welcome."

When it looked like Wuunferth was hesitating, Ulfric raised a slow eyebrow. "Well?"

"…nothing." Wuunferth scowled, ignoring the skeptical look his Jarl was giving him and sidestepped the younger man, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

Snorting loudly, Ulfric turned back to the door.

* * *

><p>Lysandra was having a bit of a hard time getting dressed. More to the point, she was having a hard time lacing up the back of the dress that had been lain out for her. She had looked for her sleepwear and found this instead. It just felt wrong to snoop in the few cabinets for her clothes, even if it was for a good cause. Such as not having to wear this thing on top of avoiding breaking her arms as she bent them at a peculiar angle in order to fumble with the laces.<p>

"Be still."

She recognized that voice. She had heard it only once before –if she didn't count the time just hours ago before she had passed out- but it was an unforgettable voice. It was deep and slow, with an air of command. Automatically, she froze.

Lysandra unfroze when she felt the laces of the dress being pulled tight, turning her head to look back and in the process, shifted her upper body away.

Ulfric simply jerked her back by the laces, nimble fingers doing them up quickly. "I wondered if you would survive Helgen." He said when he had finished, stepping away from her.

"I did and thanks to Ralof. If not for him, I probably would have died."

"Hmm."

While he circled her, Lysandra looked everywhere but at him, taking in the room. The walls, floor and ceiling were all stone which would have made for a very cold room if not for the roaring fire in the hearth. A desk and a few cabinets were all the furnishing other than the bed, which sat in the middle of the floor. The room was… rather bare.

"What brings you to Windhelm? You must know that these are… dangerous times… especially for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"An Imperial."

Why was everything here about race? Honestly, she was built the same as any Nord in Skyrim, she just happened to be from Tamriel with a few different looks and perhaps a trait unique to her people.

Taking a deep breath, Lysandra plastered a smile on her face. She knew he was the Jarl here and she knew he was considered an enemy of the Empire, though she tried not to learn much more than that as she had a policy of staying out of politics. So far, it was serving her quite well. "I was passing through with a… companion."

"Where is this companion now?"

That was a very good question and Lysandra could only imagine Vilkas' current frame of mind. Her disappearing when they were supposed to be meeting the Circle... oh he was going to be _upset_.

* * *

><p>Upset was putting it mildly. Vilkas had returned to the inn to find neither hide nor hair of Lysandra. Before he could start looking for her, he heard some whisperings about the 'Imperial tart' and the Jarl. With that as his lead, he had gone to the Palace of the Kings, only to be told to come back at a decent hour, such as when the sun was up.<p>

So he had waited.

Now he was inside and the steward of the castle had instructed him to wait while he went to find 'the woman the Jarl had brought in the night before', wondering just how she had managed to already get herself in trouble. He hadn't even left her alone for more than an hour or two. All she had to do was sit in the inn, drink and eat something and wait for him to return. _How_, in the name of Talos, did she manage to wind up _here_?


	13. Warmth Through Embarrassment

**13: Warmth Through Embarrassment **

"What did you do?"

Any other greeting from Vilkas probably would have been surprising, this one, not so much. Lysandra smiled sheepishly at him from behind Ulfric's back as she followed him out of the narrow stone hallway into the throne room.

"Is this man your husband?" Ulfric asked, glancing back at her, looking somewhat confused by the tiny, abashed grin on her face.

Lysandra's face burned crimson. "No." She looked anywhere but at either man as Vilkas explained who they were. It wasn't a surprise that Ulfric knew who the Companions were, though when he didn't hide the fact that he found the idea of _her_ being a Companion to be… amusing, she scowled.

"Here." Vilkas held out a large bundle towards her. "Go…" He trailed off, realizing that for the first time since they had met, she was wearing… something decidedly feminine. "Change."

His inner wolf was howling at that, much preferring to see her in the form fitting, bosom flattering dress.

"Oh." Lysandra looked down at herself, nodding. Of course she'd have to change; they couldn't traipse about Skyrim with her like this. She would admit, only within the safety of her own mind, that wearing a dress again had been a nice switch but it was highly impractical. She quickly walked over to take the clothes from him, immediately feeling the weight of a sword and smiled.

Vilkas watched as she sorted through the assorted clothing he had scavenged for her, obviously going right for the sword and felt a hint of amusement come upon him. "You can play with the sword later, woman, go dress."

Nodding, Lysandra glanced at Ulfric who had been looking on with a blank face. "Jarl, if I-"

"You may use my room again, if you wish, Lysandra."

She was never going to stop blushing. Ulfric hadn't said it in any particular way but from the way Vilkas was openly glaring at the Jarl, the fact that he said it had been enough.

"My Jarl," A tall, thin man with a white cap on his head approached nervously. "She may use my room, just off to the kitchens."

"It seems my steward has saved us all from an awkward moment." Ulfric said in his slow, deep voice, though just the barest hint of amusement shined through.

Lysandra just followed the steward. Awkward moment indeed.

* * *

><p>"We were wondering if you would ever make it."<p>

Lysandra smiled awkwardly up at Aela, who was watching as she and Vilkas approached the steps that led to the dais the red-haired Nord woman was standing on. "I-it's m-m-my f-fault."

"Of course it is." Aela replied deadpan, her eyes darting to Vilkas and then back to Lysandra. "Why are you wet?"

"She fell into the water." Vilkas said slowly and with more control over his chattering teeth, the tone lacing his words making it quite clear that the answer should have been more than obvious.

Farkas appeared beside Aela, pale eyes that matched his twin's shifting between the soaked pair. "I'll go start a fire." He sighed, turning and walking away.

"I-I s-slip-ped..." Lysandra managed to choke out, her arms wrapped around herself under her soaked hide covering. She had slipped on one of the floating pieces of ice as they were crossing the waters towards the small island Ysgramor's tomb was sheltered on. With the additional weight of her clothing, armor, the hide cloak and her sword hadn't been in her favor when she had slipped, they had drug her down into the freezing, dark water.

Considering Vilkas hadn't spoken more than two consecutive words to her since leaving Windhelm, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had just let her drown. But she hadn't been surprised when he fished her out either. To compound her borderline hypothermia issues, he had proceeded to drag her from ice raft to ice raft as if she was nothing more than an irritating nuisance. Which, she probably was. A heavy, wet, irritating nuisance.

"Obviously." Aela shook her head and turned back towards the tomb, gesturing for them to come up. "Mind the stairs, they're slicked with ice." She smirked at them over her shoulder. "Wouldn't want you falling again, would we?"

Well, at least getting humiliated was warming.

* * *

><p>Humiliation was very warming indeed, Lysandra reflected, staring down into the small fire Farkas had gotten going. They weren't inside the actual tomb but just outside the door. She didn't know how to describe where they were. It was like being in a building without a roof. They had come down circular steps into an underground type entrance, surrounded by stone.<p>

How Farkas had gotten the fire started was beyond her but she was guessing the fact that they were technically below ground –but still in the sea, maybe?- surrounded by these stone walls kept the wind from being an issue.

Aela and Farkas had helped them both –her and Vilkas- strip down to their underthings, which had contributed to the embarrassment factor. Sitting on icy, wet stone in her unmentionables in Farkas' cast off cloak while their own clothing was in the process of partially drying was not exactly what she had had in mind when she'd been told they were going to a tomb.

But in the long run, it might be more preferable. Especially once Aela, Farkas and Vilkas began explaining what they were doing there. Aela had initiated the conversation, saying that if they had to wait they might as well be somewhat productive.

They were going to try to fulfill Kodlak's final wish. To reverse his condition and hopefully enable him to pass into Sovngarde. Aela had gestured to a rucksack that Lysandra had recognized instantly, it contained the severed head of the single Glenmoril witch. Single because she hadn't been brave enough to attempt clearing out the Coven, even looking at the head was a guarantee to give her nightmares for a week straight.

It felt like they had sat there for hours, the conversation dying into a silence that was only broken when one of them got up to stoke the fire. Everyone was tense, ready to go, and she knew this delay was only serving to heighten the agitation the trio was feeling, it heightened the sense of urgency to see this task finished.

"They are not dry... but they are not soaked either." Aela announced, feeling the now stiff armor. "Dress quickly."

Undressing and then dressing in front of two men... ah yes, humiliation was a fine way to stay warm indeed.


	14. Dragonborn

**14: Dragonborn**

* * *

><p>"Here."<p>

Lysandra frowned when Farkas held out Wuuthrad to her. "Why are you giving me this?" She asked, knowing better than to take the axe with just one hand, which was how he was holding it out to her. She used both hands, not surprised by the weight and sincerely hoped they weren't going to make her carry this thing all through the tombs.

She was aware of the reverence the Companions and Circle had for Wuuthrad, it had been Ysgramor's axe supposedly, and finding the fragments for it had been an on-going quest. As she personally had very little understanding of Ysgramor and this weapon she now carried, she wasn't as reverent about it. She had known it was important to Kodlak and that was what she cared about, that he had cared.

Eorlund had done a fine job in repairing the axe, she was assuming it was him, doubting that anyone present had the skill to repair such a weapon. She wasn't sure how the axe had looked in its original state but she had faith in Eorlund's abilities and was going to assume that this was probably it.

"Kodlak would have wanted it that way." Vilkas said, which marked the first time since leaving Windhelm that he had spoken an actual sentence to her.

Her grip on the axe tightened.

* * *

><p>"Did that just happen?" Lysandra whispered, unsure if she was hallucinating or not. It was a strong possibility since she had gotten some spider venom –and it had been a damn big spider- in her open mouth. Since she had never dealt with a spider bite, or its venom, before, this was uncharted territory and she was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before possible hallucinations turned into something much worse.<p>

Vilkas hadn't made it past the statue of Ysgramor before announcing that he couldn't go in. Farkas had made it as far as the spiders. So in the end, it had only been her and Aela to come here, to the burial chamber. Getting here hadn't been easy, but they had done it.

Seeing Kodlak, in a transparent, faintly glowing blue form had been both... creepy and wonderful, all at the same time. She had felt almost like crying, a mixture of both sadness and happiness welling up inside of her at being able to properly say goodbye. It had registered faintly that if Vilkas found out about this, then he would never forgive himself for not coming.

"If you mean did we just battle a spirit wolf and granted Kodlak's wish to enter Sovngarde, then yes." Aela muttered, sitting on a stone step that led up to who knew where, busy tending a wound. She fixed her gaze on her shield-sibling. "You're looking... green."

Lysandra simply nodded, her mind already wandering off, trying to focus on everything she had heard, seen and... what she was currently feeling.

"He named you Harbringer."

That snapped her back to attention with startling clarity. "I thought I misheard that."

"You didn't." Aela snorted, standing up and flexing her arm gingerly. "You've got... green on your face... what did you swallow?"

"Spider."

"Ah... that explains the way you're swaying and your eyes."

Lysandra blinked twice, each time noting that Aela was getting closer, before something was shoved between her lips.

"Drink it."

Obediently, she drank. Within seconds her vision had begun clearing up and she realized that Aela's face hadn't been drooping, it had just been her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome; did you hear what I said? About you being Harbringer?"

"Actually, I was hoping that was just part of what could have been a hallucination."

"What? Why? It is a great honor to be named Harbringer. Kodlak specifically named you to take his place, both now and in his journal."

"His journal?" That was something nobody had bothered to mention until just now and the surprise was evident in her tone.

"Yes, his journal. You can read it when we get back to Jorrvaskr."

Nodding, Lysandra tilted her head, becoming aware that the feeling, the tugging feeling, she had felt while poisoned hadn't gone away. Actually, it felt familiar, it was something she had experienced before.

Aela could only watch as Lysandra walked away from her. She liked the Imperial woman but by the Nine was she an odd one.

* * *

><p>"FUS!"<p>

Vilkas exchanged looks with Farkas and Aela before darting up the steps Aela had said Lysandra went up not so long ago. He had known when Kodlak's spirit had been released; he had felt the change in the atmosphere, even from his spot near Ysgramor's statue at the entrance. After that he had sought out his fellow Companions, finding his brother standing over dead spider's and the pair had gone on together. They had found Aela in the burial chamber, studying each tomb and she had explained what had happened.

He found Lysandra lying against one of the many stone walls, looking dazed. He heard Aela and Farkas coming in behind him but paid them no heed, instead crossing over to crouch at Lysandra's side. "What happened?" He asked softly, reaching out to check her head first.

"I panicked..." She muttered, wincing when his palm scraped a lump and reached back gingerly to feel it. When she pulled her hand away, she was pleasantly surprised to find her fingertips absent of blood.

"Why?"

She shook her head, her hand now moving to rub her chest absentmindedly.

"What was that noise? It was... loud... and strong." Aela was staring at Lysandra suspiciously. "Was that you?"

"Um..."

Farkas grunted, folding his arms over his chest. "Dragonborn."

All eyes turned to him.

* * *

><p>"Aren't you going to say something?"<p>

Vilkas looked incredulously at Lysandra. Actually, since Farkas' announcement, he couldn't stop looking at her. She had explained, in a very reluctant, stumbling manner, what had happened to her at Driftshade Refuge and then when she and the city guard had fought the dragon. Then she had covered the call from the Greybeards, which now in hindsight, he should have realized that was what that rumbling was the day of the battle with the dragon. The day Kodlak had died. He just hadn't realized what it was due to all the distractions he had been surrounded with.

"Vilkas?" She reached over to hesitantly touch his knee.

Farkas and Aela had gone back inside, leaving Vilkas and Lysandra sitting out in the circular entrance. He hadn't spoken one word to her since the explanation.

"Vilkas?"

"The Gods have a great sense of humor." He said finally.

She arched an eyebrow at that.

"_You_... the Dragonborn."


	15. Windhelm, Again

**Secrets:** I try to aim for around the 1,000 word mark. It's short but updates are quicker. Glad you're enjoying so far though!

**Aycha:** I just sounded your name out and wound up laughing at myself. Things will slow down, promise. Next few chapters might/are/undecided feature Ulfric and I have a hard time picturing anything going fast with him around, pretty sure that would be his voice affecting my sense of time.

**Blue Eyes:** I'll check it out :)

As should always be assumed, I own nothing, except maybe a piece of Lysandra. Though if Bethesda would like to will Vilkas and Ulfric to me, I would happily claim ownership. One line in this chapter is taken directly from the game -one of my favorite lines at that.

* * *

><p><strong>15: Windhelm, Again<strong>

* * *

><p>Walking the road alone was not only dangerous but lonely. Lysandra hadn't wanted to linger in Ysgramor's tomb like the other Companions did so she had set out for Whiterun on her own. Vilkas had been the one most against that and had almost come with her but with the help of Aela and Farkas –along with a lot of ribbing about her being 'Dragonborn' and not needing a 'lowly mortal's' help- he had remained behind, reluctantly.<p>

She figured that as long as she stayed on the road and didn't travel off of it, she wasn't very likely to get lost or run into too much trouble. Bandits, probably. Wild animals, a few. She hadn't originally planned on going to Whiterun. She had made the decision on the way to Ysgramor's tomb that when she left, she would just go straight to High Hrothgar, to meet with the Greybeards.

Then she realized she didn't have her map. It was either trek back to Whiterun for the map Jarl Balgruuf had so _graciously_ marked and given her, make a stop in Windhelm or just ask for directions, repeatedly.

Windhelm it was.

Just hopefully without the drunk, racist men and waking up in the Jarl's bed chambers.

* * *

><p>"You must be the Imperial woman who made the mistake of helping one of us."<p>

Lysandra was quite aware of the racism going on in Windhelm thanks to her last visit. What she wasn't aware of was the fact that on her second and hopefully less... involved... trip, she would be a known entity among the dark elf population.

"I'm sure there are other Imperial women who pass through Windhelm." She countered dismissively, wondering why she had felt the need to come down what a guard had referred to as the Gray Quarter. Which, thanks to the powers of perception –thank you Vilkas- she had noticed was heavily populated with Dunmer. She was going to attribute her decision to come this way and into this shop –Sadri's Used Wares- because she was hoping to avoid any encounters that ended with her getting kicked in the ribs.

"Not in Windhelm." The shopkeeper retorted. "Haven't you heard? There's a war brewing."

"War?" She echoed.

He nodded, studying her thoughtfully. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"Um... not really, I guess." She rubbed the back of her neck, which was now doing a tingly thing.

"Stormcloaks are gearing up to drive the Imperials out of Skyrim." He said slowly, watching her intently to obviously gauge her reaction. "Jarl Ulfric started this whole thing, Shouted the High King to death."

Now that was just ridiculous. "He shouted someone to death?" She repeated skeptically. "That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"

"Not shout, woman, _Shout_."

Now that... that was interesting. "Like... a dragon shout?"

He nodded.

* * *

><p>"Blast!"<p>

"Quiet or I'll rethink my generosity!"

"Sorry, Sadri." Lysandra called through the thin wall meekly. She had been trying to sleep –which wasn't easy when you were sleeping on a hard wooden floor in a drafty room off the back of a storefront- when a single thought jarred her out of whatever unconsciousness was lurking.

She was Harbringer. At least in name.

She had to return to Whiterun.

"Damn it..." She whispered under her breath, sitting upright on her pallet.

She was grateful for Sadri allowing her to sleep here, something he had offered after inquiring about her sleeping arrangements for the night. She had not planned on returning to Candlehearth Hall, even if they did have actual beds. They also had actual drunks too, no thank you. When she had then asked him if there were anywhere other than the Candlehearth to stay the night, he had informed her she was out of luck.

Resigned to either sleeping outside the walls or begging a place in the stables, Lysandra had thanked him, tucked away her new but used map and turned for the door.

Sadri had then offered her the floor in the backroom, and he looked very surprised that he had done so. She had accepted and had the good sense to not be offended when he locked up everything that could be considered valuable. She might've been branded as an 'elf lover' but that didn't make her an honest, trustworthy person. At least not from his perspective.

Cursing again, Lysandra laid back down and closed her eyes. She had a roof over her head and didn't have to worry about being attacked by animals, bandits or idiots, she'd worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

* * *

><p>"<em>...I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must."<em>

Lysandra was almost tempted to applaud at the end of Ulfric's impassioned speech, but that would have drawn his attention to the fact that she had been standing there. Granted, it was the open courtroom, and the guard's had let her pass, but nobody was inside –how very unlike Balgruuf's own throne room- besides Ulfric and the man he was speaking too.

The man was wearing what appeared to be a bear head on top of _his_ head. Now that was a fashion statement she hoped never caught on.

She watched as Ulfric sank into a throne that had to be uncomfortable –it was made of stone and she wasn't entirely sure if she had seen a cushion on it or not- and stretched out his long legs, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow resting on an arm.

He looked... melancholy.

Or he did. Now he looked blank, but that was probably because he had just spotted her. Lysandra forced a smile to her face, hoping it didn't look like a grimace, being caught eavesdropping –which technically, she hadn't been trying too- was never pleasant.

"Why were you crossing the border?"

That was... unexpected. Lysandra hadn't expected a warm and welcoming greeting –she had gotten him kicked out of his own bedroom after all- but she hadn't expected to be greeted with a question either.

* * *

><p>So, for anyone going 'but the war has already started, it's not brewing', I'm taking liberties with time, as was pointed out in chapter one's header.<p> 


	16. Long Conversations

**16: Long Conversations**

Lysandra would openly admit that she was not one for long conversations. Well, actually, that needed clarified. She wasn't one for long conversations that were about _her_. She didn't mind talking, she just preferred more interesting topics.

Ulfric had made it clear that while he found her, or the idea of her, relatively amusing, he did not trust her. He had also made it clear that it wasn't anything personal. She was an outsider, an Imperial one at that, and given the state of Skyrim these days, outsiders weren't to be trusted. That didn't help her 'don't like talking about myself' deal.

"You were crossing the border to get away from..."

"My sister, well not her, but from a situation she was originally in."

"Your sister." Ulfric repeated in his slow fashion, both amusement and disgust lacing his tone.

Lysandra sighed, knowing she needed to restate the issue of her sister. She had done a quick run-through and now that they were playing the 'ask and answer' portion of this conversation –which was grossly unfair as she was doing all the answering and none of the asking- came the worst part of conversations about oneself.

"My sister, Alessandra-"

"Why must you have such similar, complicated names?"

"Because the cats were already called Ulfric and Ulfricka." She deadpanned.

There was just a hint of a twitch of his lips as he merely gestured with one lazily waved hand for her to continue.

Sighing, Lysandra leaned back against the wall she was sitting against, adjusting her legs to a more comfortable position. She had gotten started on her explanation only for him to interrupt it and relocate them to the kitchens, which was great because the room not only housed dozens of delicious, mouthwatering smells but it was warm.

Throne rooms left a lot to be desired in the terms of warmth. They were too open.

So now he was sitting in the one chair in the room –a plain, wooden one at that- while she was here on the floor, with a rug beneath her and the fireplace just to her right. She was quite toasty and comfortable.

"Anyway, my sister Alessandra- thank you!" Lysandra flashed a genuinely pleased and grateful smile to the cook, who had so far been nothing more than a quiet shadow in the room as he prepared a meal. She took the mug he had offered her, feeling heat radiating from the pewter to her palms and sighed contentedly. She studied the contents: white, frothy and heavily spiced.

"It's milk." Ulfric informed her, accepting his own mug with a nod of his head. "Goat's milk, spiced."

"Ah..." She took a sip and closed her eyes, the warmth washing through her. If she would have accepted the Harbringer position –which, she had no intention of doing- she would have made this drink a mandatory beverage on the menu.

She wasn't surprised to find him still staring at her when she looked up, trying not to smirk at the sight of the white foam clinging to his mustache. "Alessandra was set to marry, the son of a merchant, I believe the merchant was in direct competition against our father."

"You believe?"

"I didn't pay much attention. It was a mixture of business and politics, neither of which I had any interest in."

He snorted at that. "You're an Imperial."

"And you are a Nord." She countered; beginning to discover that she had a limit to just how many times someone could play the race card with her. She was certain Ulfric was about to hit that limit.

"Imperials, by nature, are business and political oriented people. It is a fact that they only care about their interests, their Empire."

"And Nords, by nature, are all intellectually retarded and have relations with their horses."

The cook decided now was a good time to make himself scarce.

Lysandra watched as Ulfric seemed to consider that, trying to decipher if that glint in his eyes was from anger or amusement, it was sometimes impossible to tell with him. She had just overstepped the boundary between Jarl and commoner. _Imperial_ commoner at that.

"From here on out, _Lysandra_," He began, emphasizing her name pointedly. "Let us pretend we are neither Nord nor Imperial but simply a man and a woman. Perhaps then neither of us will forget our manners."

She simply nodded, feeling more than a mite relieved that she wasn't destined for the dungeon.

* * *

><p>"Alessandra was to marry a rival merchant's son."<p>

Somehow, Lysandra managed to keep herself from doing something as useless as jumping in fright or attacking automatically at being startled. After their verbal warfare and immediate peace treaty, he had called for the steward and had her shown to a room she could use for the night.

Considering that it was only early afternoon, Lysandra had found that a bit presumptuous of him but hadn't said anything. She had tempted fate enough with him and wasn't about to push her luck any further.

The room was, and she was noticing a pattern here, bare save for the necessities. The other day when coming out of Ulfric's bedroom, she had gotten glimpses into other rooms and they all shared the 'bare' motif. Given what she had learned about Ulfric, she was guessing he was a man who favored practicality over appearances. It was just a guess, she could be wrong. He could have been as poor as temple mouse.

"She ran away the day before the wedding." She said as she turned away from the bed she had been contemplating. She hadn't bothered unpacking her small satchel, though she had laid out her sword and items to clean it with. "She was already, secretly, betrothed to another."

"Did she run with this mysterious man?"

"She did. He was a Redguard."

"Was?"

"They were found a week after they ran on the road, dead and their possessions gone, bandits most likely." Lysandra tilted her head to the side, considering him, aware her voice sounded cold and uncaring. She had already done her grieving for her sister. She missed Alessandra but she was not about to dwell on grief forever. For one, Alessandra wouldn't have wanted that and secondly, the world went on as usual whether a person was drowning in sorrow or not.

Before he could say anything or offer pointless words of belated condolences, she continued. "My father decided that I would stand in for Alessandra. He announced this to me three months after we had buried her. I convinced him to give me another three months to ready myself and during that time, I planned my escape and saved what coin I could. In the middle of the third month, I ran."

"To Skyrim?"

"Nobody would come looking for me here, it seemed perfect. Of course, I had no idea that I was walking right into the middle of a brewing war."

Ulfric was quiet for a few moments before startling her all over again by laughing. His laughter was deep and seemed loud enough to fill the entire castle.

Lysandra scowled slightly, not sure what he found amusing, but the scowl faded as he continued. Laughing seemed to take the years off of him and she idly found herself wondering how old he truly was and what had happened to age him so. "What do you find so amusing?"

"They thought you were a spy!"


	17. Memories

**A/N:** So, first off, my apologies for the lack of an update within the normal time, holidays and the aftermath can be hectic. I stopped playing my main character on Skyrim because the latest patch fixed my backwards flying dragon issue but then froze the game within the first fifteen minutes of playtime so no more main game playing until the next patch. This kind of works out as it gives me time to catch up storywise with what I'm doing in the actual game.

Thanks everyone for the reviews, always appreciate them and now, for your reading pleasure: more Ulfric! Eventually, we will get back to Vilkas, promise!

* * *

><p><strong>17: Memories<strong>

* * *

><p>"Why were you in Helgen?"<p>

Ulfric looked up from his plate, hiding the fact that Lysandra had for once, caught him off guard. Mealtimes were generally quiet, unless Galmar was dining with him, and then the noise level could get rather loud. As it was, his castle was mostly empty save for the guard, Wuunferth, a few servants and then there were those like Galmar, who came and went as situation dictated.

Normally, he would dine in his 'war' room, studying maps and the latest intelligence but since he had a guest he had made his first appearance at the dining table in at least a week. His steward had been quite surprised to find him sitting there when the poor man had emerged from the kitchen.

Lysandra had been regulated to the opposite end of the table however, which made conversation impractical. Once they had been served, he had nearly forgotten about her, focused on his food as well as several other thoughts that had been neglected throughout the day. He did have a war to plan; he had shunted this issue aside.

The reason for the shunting had practically shouted the Helgen question.

Lysandra was staring at him curiously, which was of no surprise to him. He had learned quickly that she was a very curious woman; she just didn't appreciate that trait when it was spun around on her. Imperial trait undoubtedly.

"For the same reason you were." He answered finally. While he would admit to himself that he did rather enjoy her company and found her a welcome distraction, he would never forget that she was an Imperial.

"Ah, sneaking across the border." Lysandra nodded, a knowing gleam in her eye. She got that he wasn't going to tell her the truth and didn't pry.

He smiled dryly.

* * *

><p><em>The first thing she seen when her eyes opened and the haze cleared away was a man sitting across from her. She immediately became aware of the fact that she was sitting in a wagon, the rocking back and forth motion punctuated with the occasional jarring feeling as the wheels hit a bump, or dipped into a rut would have been a tell-tale giveaway. <em>

_The man was Nord, his blond brown hair looking rather unkempt as he stared ahead at the driver. One lone braid attracted her attention._

_She forced herself to stop noticing details that didn't mean anything and instead concentrate on why she was here. The last thing she remembered was running through a wooded area, knowing freedom wasn't too far off. She'd be free and she would be able to start over, without unwanted marriage prospects looming on the horizon._

_Someone had shouted something and she had looked back. Then she had come to an abrupt stop as she collided with someone, someone wearing a steel chest plate that had bit into her flesh. She remembered staring up into a cold, stern face and then… nothing._

_Turning her head, she surveyed the other apparent prisoners, having already become aware that her hands were bound tightly together at the wrists with coarse rope. So were her companions. One man was staring just past her head, his eyes searching desperately for some escape that wasn't coming. The other, another Nord just from the looks of him, was hunched over, staring directly at her._

_What marked him differently was the fact that he had a cloth tied around his mouth, preventing him from speaking and that struck her as odd. He was also dressed better than her or the other two, he was obviously someone important. She returned his stare a moment longer before looking away._

_The man across from her began speaking, basically recounting what had happened to all of them. She had been caught in an ambush not meant for her, but for him and the other Nord, the one with the gag. Sheer dumb luck had landed her here._

_When the thief –she learned he was a thief, the other two were Stormcloaks on the run from the Empire- referenced the gagged man, she glanced at him. He –Ulfric Stormcloak, High King the Nord across from her said, he was staring at the thief with eyes that could only be described as murderous. She didn't think it was because his ego had been pricked at lack of recognition but with the entire situation. _

_When the thief realized who it was, and began panicking, she had started panicking as well. If this man, this Ulric, was leading a rebellion, and they were all apparently caught by the same Imperial patrol…_

_She had always avoided the political game but even she could see where this was going. They were all assumed to be in cahoots with each other. Well, maybe not the thief, but she was likely to be lumped in with these Stormcloaks and if this man was the leader of a rebellion against the Empire, then he was on his way to his death. _

_As was she, by a stupid whim of fate._

_She began internally panicking, not about to display it like the thief was. She was only pulled out of the 'I'm going to die!' mode her mind had slipped in when she caught the words: "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."_

_Home, home was back in Cyrodiil where her father was, where her dead sister's ex-fiancee waited… no, she did not want her last thoughts to be of home. She'd leave that to these fine gents._

_The panic returned tenfold as they were carted into a village and she tried desperately not to show it though her eyes had gone wide with fear. She didn't want to die, not here, not now. _

_Vaguely she heard something about a general, and about Thalmor… it didn't really register. _

_When the wagon lurched to a halt, she looked about the village, hoping against hope that what she thought was to happen wasn't going to happen. Her eyes landed on Ulfric, finding him watching her again and she seen a hint of sympathy in those otherwise resigned eyes._

_The thief was talking frantically again, insisting they weren't rebels, and from behind her she could hear the other Nord say something about meeting death with dignity. For some reason, that steeled her spine and she was able to dismount the wagon with something that resembled dignity. She couldn't stop the tears that pooled in her eyes, but she wasn't about to open her mouth and scream for mercy either._

_In what seemed like seconds later, she learned his name was Ralof._

_The thief –Lokir- ran and she watched as he was shot down by a rain of arrows, closing her eyes tightly._

_Time then lurched to a standstill and hope flared in her heart as a man with a list in his hands searched for her name, and didn't find it. The hope dissipated when the captain announced name or no name on that damned list, she was destined for the chopping block._

_She didn't listen to whatever the Imperial solider was saying, she was too busy looking around, still searching for a way out of this. Then her attention was drawn to the sky. She had heard something._

_She watched in horror as a Stormcloak interrupted the priestess of Arkay, unable to tear her gaze from him as he spewed belligerently at his captors and then… she watched his head come off._

_Then she heard the female captain –and she truly loathed this bitch by now- call for her, the 'renegade from Cyrodiil'._

_Before she could take a step forward, that sound, that roar, filled the air again._

_But she was still called, and so she forced her violently shaking legs to carry her towards her death. Getting on her knees was easy, her legs gave out just as soon as she stepped over the still warm corpse of the soldier, her face only inches from the head in the crate before her. _

_Swallowing hard, she began murmuring a quiet prayer to Talos, a man made God. A God now forbidden to be called such by…_

_The roar again, and she tilted her head to the side, seeing something flying from the mountain._

_Dragon! _

"Lysandra, wake up, wake up! It is only a-"

"FUS!"

Ulfric went skidding backwards, his eyes widening as Lysandra stared at him, all signs of sleep gone from her. Instead, he found terror splashed across her face and in her eyes. Terror from the nightmare or what she had just done he did not know.

It took them both several moments to recover. Her from her dream, which hadn't been a dream so much as a memory she had done her best to repress and forget. He from shock, and from the irony he had noted of her using that Shout against _him_ of all people.

"So it is true then," He said finally, cautiously approaching the bed, keeping his gaze firmly locked on hers, hands held out in a gesture meant to reassure her. "once more does a Dragonborn walk among us."


	18. Kodlak's Journal

**18: Kodlak's Journal**

* * *

><p>"I tried to forget about it, about Helgen. It always seemed like a giant… blur to me, one memory after another that melded into something barely understandable."<p>

Ulric had never imagined that this woman was the Dragonborn, he was still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. But given the rumors that had reached him as well as the fact that in a terror induced panic she had knocked him back with a Shout…. It seemed the Gods did indeed have a sense of humor. He sat on the edge of the bed in the room he had had made presentable for her to sleep in, sitting right alongside her, staring at her.

Lysandra was staring straight ahead at the wall, her auburn hair for once undone of the pulled back braid she usually kept it in and the light from the fire he had coaxed back from a low burn to a roaring flame seemed to make the tresses shimmer. He pushed that random observation aside, instead taking in how her already pale complexion had gone even paler. He knew better than most that memories you wished to forget never lay dormant for long.

"I am sorry, for… um, doing that." She added as an afterthought, chancing a look up into his face. When she caught the contemplative gleam in his eyes, she frowned. "Ulfric?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"About being the Dragonborn?"

He nodded.

"Don't take offense to this Ulfric, but you haven't exactly hidden the fact that you don't trust me." Lysandra said dryly, just a hint of a smirk curving the left side of her mouth. "While we might be just '_man and woman'_, we both know the truth. You are a Nord and the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion and I am just an Imperial who happened to share a very tragic day with you."

Even he had to smile grimly at that, knowing she was right.

"So… with that in mind, I was a bit worried that you would consider me a threat."

"You are a threat, Lysandra." He admitted, running a hand through his tousled hair. "To who though, I am not certain."

* * *

><p>"Where are the others?"<p>

"They wished to remain for a while, they'll be along." Lysandra wasn't surprised with Eorlund's less than stellar greeting, she was used to his mannerisms and bluntness. It was one of the things she admired about him. "I'm not staying."

"You're not staying? Have you taken leave of your senses, girl? You're the Harbinger now." He said gruffly, following her inside of Jorrvaskr.

"Did everyone but me know about that?" She demanded, shooting him a dark look over her shoulder as she headed towards the stairwell that would lead to the underground portion of the building.

"Kodlak made his wishes known in his journal, we all know."

Lysandra hesitated once she was in the main corridor downstairs, aware that there were eyes on her from the Companions were milled around, the ones who weren't out on jobs and managed an awkward smile. She could read the doubt in several pairs of eyes. She was the newest member, she wasn't as trusted as one of the Circle, she hadn't done anything too extraordinary unless you count fighting a dragon but she hadn't done that alone. The question those eyes were asking was: Why you? What is so special about you?

And the honest answer was: nothing.

When she started for the common room, Eorlund reached out to grab her shoulder gently but firmly. "Your belongings have been moved, _Harbinger_." He said, giving her no room to argue as he nudged her down the hall. "I'll give you time to settle in and then we'll talk…"

"Eorlund, I already-"

"You have responsibilities here girl, you're not going anywhere just yet."

Groaning, Lysandra could only watch him walk away.

* * *

><p>Taking over Kodlak's rooms was… disconcerting, to put it mildly. Lysandra felt like she was trespassing, even though it was now apparently her room. Her few pieces of clothing had been placed in the dresser and all of Kodlak's clothing had been removed.<p>

She had spotted Kodlak's journal, it had been laid out on the bed in a prominent position on the pillows. Purposefully ignoring it, she had summoned Tilma and asked for a bath to be drawn with an ease that was rather startling. She had never asked or ordered the woman for everything and now, well… perhaps she had taken to her new position without realizing it.

_Note to self_, she thought, _don't get too comfortable_.

After Tilma had started work on the bath, she began gathering the necessities. While she had bathed in Windhelm at the palace, she had learned that Ulfric's 'necessities only' décor wasn't décor but his actual lifestyle. Lukewarm showers in a drafty room… that had been her shortest time in a shower or bath ever.

As a last minute decision, she grabbed the journal.

* * *

><p>"And then, at my side, a stranger I had not seen before." Lysandra read aloud, careful not to get the journal wet. She was sitting in a large, round tub and was risking Tilma's wrath by using a folded over blanket to cushion the edge of the tub against her neck so she could recline. Her knees however poked out of the still hot water, but what was important was that the rest of her was submerged. Who knew when she'd get another hot bath again?<p>

"As I look into her eyes, her? Her eyes, we turn to see the same wolf who dragged away Terrfyg, and she and I draw weapons together."

Kodlak's journal was… interesting to say the least, and apparently he had only started keeping it within the past year or so. His first entry, the one she had just read was… unsettling. She knew he had feared he would be denied entrance to Sovngarde, which was where she came in, and she allowed a small smile to cross her face. Kodlak had gotten his wish, she and the others had freed his soul.

But the idea of a line of Harbinger's, destined to be turned away, to be shunted to Hircine's hunting grounds… that was unsettling. She was going to assume that meant that the line of Harbinger's had also been a line of werewolves, well… she had definitely broke _that_ tradition.

The idea of the stranger was intriguing and only made more so by Kodlak's words about not telling Skjor in case he began to worry. She was not surprised by Aela being referenced as 'strong in the ways of the beast', Aela was very proud of what she was and it was easy to see the wolf in the woman. Or perhaps the woman in the wolf.

Then she came to the part where Kodlak mentioned Vilkas, rereading it several times. His heart's fire burned too brightly at times… that was the perfect way to describe it and Lysandra found she didn't entirely agree with the assessment. She almost got the impression that it was a bit of a flaw, she didn't think so.

Carefully, she turned the page.

Vilkas had trouble in denying his inner beast. Now that was another no-surprise for her. There was so much about him that reminded her of a predator. The way he looked at her, the way he fought, even the way he sometimes moved when he wasn't in the heat of battle.

Her brow furrowed as the implication of what she was now reading struck her. This was her first meeting with Kodlak! She was the stranger in the dream.

Disgruntled, she set the journal aside, careful not to get it wet.


	19. Sides

**19: Sides**

"I heard you were made Harbinger."

"Did everyone know before me?"

Balgruuf smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders as he feinted to the left, stopping his blade from striking her but did tap her ribs lightly. "You are leaving your side open to attacks."

Frowning, Lysandra stepped away, looking down at her side to find a slight tear in her cloth shirt. She mentally added 'mend shirt' to her list of things to do before she left in the morning. "Again."

Within ten minutes, she was flat on her back with the point of his sword at her throat.

"You're distracted." Balgruuf said disapprovingly. "You're not _that_ bad a swordsmen."

"Sorry." She muttered, accepting his hand when he extended it to her, knowing he was right. She was distracted. Everything that had happened, that was happening, had caught up with her sometime in the early morning, waking her from a very fitful sleep.

Kodlak's death. Kodlak's release. Kodlak's journal had all been at the forefront of her mind. Running in at a close second was the Dragonborn issue and her impending trip to High Hrothgar. Then, to compound everything, she was still sorting out how best to get out of being Harbinger.

It wasn't that she was grateful or honored that Kodlak had named her his successor, because she was. But she was the least capable person, definitely not capable of that position. Vilkas was more suited for it; surely, Aela would be a more hands-on Harbinger, anyone but her.

When Balgruuf sheathed his sword, indicating that their sparring session was over, she did the same, gladly. She was sore and bruised thanks to the grueling pace he had set along with the numerous times he had beaten her. When he started towards the railing that was the only thing that separated them from a long drop to the death, she followed.

"You leave for High Hrothgar soon?"

"At first light."

He nodded, resting his hands on the cool stone, his eyes closing against a particularly strong breeeze. "And the Companions?"

Lysandra stared out into the approaching darkness, aware that servants were now lighting the torches that were mounted in brackets along the stone yard. "I'm going to appoint someone to take my place." She said finally, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, glancing up at him. "I can't be Harbinger and Dragonborn at the same time."

"Not successfully." He agreed, smirking down at her. "You can barely manage being yourself."

"Aren't you amusing." She replied dryly, shoving a strand of hair behind her ear. "What I mean is that I can't be Harbinger if I'm not here, and who knows how long I'll be gone?"

He nodded, turning solemn. "I went to High Hrothgar once, it was... one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I would go again if I could."

"You're more than welcome to tag along, I'll probably get lost."

"Probably, and thank you, but we both know I can't, not with this war looming." Balgruuf's brow furrowed in worry. "Whiterun will be at the center of it, it is the trading central of Skyrim."

"You haven't picked a side?"

"I am on my people's side."

* * *

><p>"You're going to be Harbinger in my place."<p>

Eorlund stared at Lysandra like she had lost her mind. "I'm not even a Companion, woman, no."

"You're practically a Companion and I couldn't think of anyone better for the job. Congratulations."

"Kodlak wanted _you_ to follow him." Eorlund countered, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly.

"I can't, I'm not staying in Whiterun."

His eyes narrowed. "Why not? I heard the Jarl made you Thane, even offered you a house."

"How'd you-"

"You're not the only one he talks too, you know."

Now it was Lysandra narrowing her eyes. Balgruuf had made her a Thane of his court, and given her a Housecarl of her own along with the offer of a house in the town square –for a price of course. She had taken the axe that came with the entire package gratefully, declined the offer on the house for the moment and requested that Lydia remain in his court. She would feel really, really terrible if the woman got killed following her around.

Not that she wouldn't have appreciated the help, because she would, not to mention the company. But it was one thing for a person to volunteer, another for the person to go simply because they 'worked' for you, or however the Housecarl thing went.

"I'm not staying." She repeated, refusing to cave to him. She respected Eorlund, but she wasn't about to let him bully her into staying either. "I have to go to High Hrothgar."

At that, his eyes widened and his head cocked to the side, regarding her in a new light.

Lysandra held her breath.

* * *

><p>Vilkas felt like he could kill several people. At the top of the list was Jarl Bulgruuf and Eorlund, for letting her go off alone. He was upset with himself, knowing that her leaving Ysgramor's tomb without him would wind up in disaster.<p>

She had apparently made it to Windhelm all right and left in good condition –which he interpreted to mean she hadn't been mugged. Then she had made it back to Whiterun, stayed three days and left again.

According to Eorlund, who was now Harbinger –at least until she came back so the older man said- she had set off for High Hrothgar, alone two days ago. He had left Whiterun almost as soon as he had gotten there, ignoring everyone's comments about the situation and his 'overreaction' to it.

"_When I get my hands on that woman_," He thought, gritting his teeth as he approached Ivarstead. "_I'm going to..."_ He never finished that thought, skidding to a halt when he felt the shift in the air. A storm was coming in.

If Lysandra had already begun scaling the 7,000 steps to The Throat of the World she was going to wind up right up there in the middle of it.

Then a more pressing matter came to mind: he could lose her scent in the storm.

Cursing, Vilkas pressed on.


	20. Up The Mountain

**20: Up The Mountain**

Interesting fact, trolls had three eyes, kind of like a spider, only half the amount of eyes. Still... very creepy.

Those were the thoughts rolling around Lysandra's frantic mind as she stumbled backwards, fumbling with frozen hands for her sword. She was tempted to try a Shout, her one lonely shout that she still wasn't sure how to do, it seemed to come on in moments of surprise.

That and perhaps a Shout that literally shouted wasn't the best thing to be attempting on a mountain... with snow above you, and ice. She didn't fancy dying via a dragon but dying in an avalanche wasn't high on her options list either.

The troll lunged and she toppled backwards on an ice slick stone, landing heavily on her arse.

_I'm going to die, on some mountain, freezing... by a googly-eyed beast... _

"Imperial!"

She knew that roar, and it just somehow reached her over the howling of the troll and what was probably her screaming.

Rolling onto her stomach, she left the sword lying by her side and covered her head with her arms. Over the pounding of her heart in her ears, she could hear fighting and hollering and then finally nothing.

"Get up, woman."

Slowly, she rolled back over and opened her eyes, surprised to find Vilkas leaning over her, his nose nearly touching hers. "Hello." She greeted, pleased that she was able to keep her voice level.

He looked _furious_.

"So... fancy seeing you here?"

"Shut up."

She clamped her lips together tightly.

* * *

><p>Lysandra didn't dare say a word. She had followed Vilkas up the steps that seemed to disappear beneath the snow and ice and then emerge when she was sure they had lost their way. She had no idea how long they walked, she just followed him and he seemed to have a pretty good idea where they were going.<p>

When he finally halted outside a cave, she had near balked at venturing inside of it. He had proceeded in cautiously, made sure it was empty and then gestured her forward. It wasn't that she was afraid of what might be in it, she was more worried about the tongue lashing she knew he was waiting to deliver. Inside a cave, there would be no escaping it.

"In woman." He ordered, stepping back out into the wind, frowning at the sight of her still standing there. When she just remained standing, he rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing her by the arm.

Lysandra's feet began working at that point and they carried her carried, keeping up with him so he didn't yank her arm out of its socket. "Vilkas, I can-"

"Quiet."

She lapsed into silence again.

* * *

><p>Vilkas somehow managed to keep his tongue to himself long enough to build a fire and procure jerky from his pack. He had listened as Lysandra divested herself of her cold, wet garments in favor of some rather… interesting looking fur clothing. Then he watched as she lay the clothing out to somewhat dry before neatly stacking her armor, settling himself against the cave wall, feeling the piercing cold of the stone seeping through to his bones.<p>

He had practically run all the way here, fighting the temptation to transform. He and Farkas had taken a vow with Kodlak to resist reverting to their beast forms. While it was hard sometimes to keep that oath, he had managed it for the most part.

He felt the urge to change constantly and his wolf nature had definitely been rearing its head more often ever since Lysandra had joined the Companions. He had grudgingly come to terms by now that the wolf inside him considered the wench to be a prospect mate.

When he had found out she had set off for High Hrothgar, alone, he had nearly had a heart attack. While he could run faster and for longer distances without tiring due to his… _condition_, it still hadn't been fast enough. If he hadn't gotten here when he did, she'd of been troll food.

He became aware that Lysandra was staring at him and scowled across the flames at her. "What?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why did you leave without me?"

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to bring you along…" She said slowly, frowning. "This isn't exactly a field trip for pleasure, Vilkas. Obviously."

"I knew that woman, it's dangerous and-"

"Were you _worried_ about me?"

He glared at her. "You are Harbinger, if you died out here, who would-"

"I made Eorlund Harbinger."

"He is under the impression it's a temporary appointment."

She shrugged slightly. "Depends entirely on how you define temporary."

Vilkas stared at her, wondering how what was supposed to be him reprimanding her had turned into him not even being able to finish a sentence. "So you lied to Eorlund?"

"Not really." Lysandra shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing stare. "There's just... I don't know where all this Dragonborn stuff is leading and what if I don't come back? Someone has to be in charge apparently and why not him?"

"He's not a Companion."

"That didn't stop me. Besides, can you think of anyone else to be Harbinger?"

"I-"

"Because Aela is too wild. Farkas is more of a follower, no offense. And you, you're too rash in your temper, again, no offense."

He simply stared at her.

"Eorlund, for all his gruff and blunt ways, is more suitable for the post than any of the Companions or current Circle members." She said all of this in a rush, hardly daring to meet his eyes. She knew she was probably offending him to Hell and back as well as stamping on the memory of Kodlak by giving up what he had given her. But she had a feeling that if Kodlak had known more about her, that her path was going to lead her out of Jorrvaskr, he would have agreed: she was not meant to be Harbinger.

That and she didn't have the presence of a leader, the skillset of someone in charge, none of it.

She waited for him to start yelling at her, waited for the barrage of 'woman, Imperial, and idiot' but it never came. Surprised, she hesitantly looked into his face and wasn't surprised to see anger there, written plainly. But there was also something else, she couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but it looked like Vilkas was mulling over what she had just said. It also looked like he might be agreeing with her, on some level.

"Go to sleep." He said finally, gruffly.

She rolled her eyes. As if he'd ever admit he agreed with her.

* * *

><p>Vilkas waited patiently as Lysandra read the next emblem they had passed. These tablets, or miniature alters, were placed at intervals on the way to High Hrothgar. Pilgrims tended to leave offerings and mediate at these places. Lysandra seemed to be interested in just reading what was written.<p>

"Dovahkiin." She said quietly, sounding it out, unsure of the pronunciation.

"It means Dragonborn."

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him thoughtfully. "I didn't know that. Do you know what all these tablets say?"

Vilkas shrugged. "This is my first time going up this mountain. I was only aware of them."

"Do you want me to tell you what they say?"

"Only if you can do so while we walk, it's too cold to stand still."

Lysandra smirked, pushing herself to her feet. "A Nord? Complaining it's cold?"

"Imperial, to me this is a warm summer day; I meant it's too cold for a puny woman like _you_ to be standing still."

At the smug look on his face, she felt the need to retaliate. "Well, not all of us have fur coats." She said, hunkering down in the snow.

The smugness faded into a glare.

She immediately followed that up with a snowball to his face.

Lysandra had just found a new way to keep herself warm. Provoke Vilkas and when he gave chase, run. She'd be sweating in no time.


	21. Way of the Voice

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, my Muses went in the opposite direction of Skyrim for a bit and now I'm starting finals so... yeah, updates on anything might be sporadic over the next week or so. I'll be honest, this chapter is... meh, but had to get it out of the way. Thanks for the R&R!

**21: The Way of the Voice**

The fact that Lysandra had brought a visitor with her didn't seem to faze the Greybeards. She got the impression that not much did. When she and Vilkas had finally made it up the steps and to High Hrothgar, she had almost turned back around.

She had no idea what to expect and wasn't sure she wanted to know. If being Dragonborn meant headaches and passing out, as well as knocking royalty around inadvertently, she was okay with being normal.

Once inside, she had been introduced to the Greybeards, who reminded her of monks. They were quiet, except when teaching her and then they used the Voice and it was... loud.

She was introduced to them but the only one who bothered speaking properly to her was Arngeir. It was probably a good thing she hadn't formed any expectations for when she arrived because the first thing Arngeir did was inform her that her training was about to begin and then sent Vilkas off.

* * *

><p>Vilkas spent two weeks either wandering the halls of the temple, or whatever it was, or outside exploring the mountainside. He barely seen Lysandra and when he did get a glimpse of her, he found he couldn't determine if she was alright or not.<p>

He never smelled fear coming from her though, not that he was keeping tabs on her. He wasn't, of course not. He was just used to her scent so it was almost second nature to note things...

Exhaustion, frustration, excitement, those were what he generally read in her scent. He also heard a lot of Shouting, wondering if the Greybeards were doing it at her or vice versa.

It was peaceful, for the most part. He knew he was shirking his responsibilities to the Companions but at the same time, he felt responsible for her. Talos knew she could get into trouble within seconds if left to her own devices. There was enough evidence of that to justify locking her up for years, just for her own benefit.

After three weeks... he was ready to admit he had started losing his mind the first day they arrived. Fighting his wolf had been hard enough outside of High Hrothgar, doing it up here with little to distract him and a lot of space down mountain to roam was almost too tempting to pass up.

* * *

><p>For the better part of three weeks, Lysandra had been dealing with minor headaches as Arngeir instructed her in the 'Way of the Voice', trying to unlock what he called 'natural talent' and she was convinced was a punishment from the Gods.<p>

They had shared their knowledge of Unrelenting Force, which turned out to be the Shout she could partly do, when surprised or not trying too. She learned that Shouts were made up of three words, each word making the Shout stronger.

She also learned that Shout was actually Thu'um in the Dragon tongue; the words that made up the Thu'um were also Dragonese or more formerly known as Words of Power. When she had used the word 'Dragonese', Arngeir had given her a look that had instantly wiped the smile off her face.

The connection between 'searing, blacking out pain' and 'wind, noise and light only she could see' suddenly took on a whole new meaning and connection, along with the odd sensation that seemed to fill her chest when she learned a new word. Mercifully, Arngeir taught her ways to deal with those sensations so she didn't black out anymore, hopefully.

Learning them in theory and then practicing them wasn't simple or easy but she learned. Doing it under pressure was an entirely different story.

* * *

><p>"WULD!"<p>

Vilkas literally stumbled backwards. Not because of the Shout, after a month of being here, he had become used to hearing Lysandra practicing constantly. What made him stumble was the fact that he had been watching her from a distance and the moment the Word of Power had left her lips, she had appeared in front of him.

"Sorry!" She apologized, bending down to help him up only to be shooed away with one hand and a warning growl. The expression on his face however... she whirled away in order to hide her grin, clamping both hands over her mouth. "I didn't think-"

"Of course not." He grumbled, brushing snow off himself once he was on his feet, and looked down at her. It felt like longer than a month since he had been this close to her, passing her in the hallway and brief chats over a rushed meal –on her part- didn't seem to count. "You cut your hair." He said, growling softly at just how stupid he sounded.

"Um, yes, I did." She reached up to nervously pat at the much shorter locks, too short now for her normal braid. With the constant wind factor up here on top of the knowledge that long hair got in the way during a fight, she had used a pair of shears she had found in her tiny room and done a fairly decent hack job.

"I don't like it."

Her gray eyes narrowed at that. "Well that was nice of you."

"You shouldn't have cut it."

"I didn't realize I had to ask your permission."

"It is customary for-" Vilkas stopped himself, realizing just what he was saying and inwardly began cursing at himself. And her too, for being... her. "Forget I said anything."

All Lysandra could do was watch as he stalked away.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to Ustengrav."<p>

Vilkas was a bit surprised Lysandra was speaking to him. For the past three days, every time she had seen him, she had steered herself in a different direction. He was also pretty sure she had used a Shout on him because he had been walking down the steps outside and suddenly gone flying due to 'heavy winds'. "What for?"

"The horn of a dead guy apparently, Jurgen Windcaller. Apparently he's the one who started the Greybeards." She shrugged, folding her arms over her chest and leaned back against the stone wall, staring down at him. "I figured I should tell you before I go. You can return to Jorrvaskr now."

"You don't want me to go with you?"

"You hate my hair."

Of all the things she could have said, it was that she went with and Vilkas nearly took her by the shoulders just to give her a good shake. "It's short." He said finally, letting his irritation show.

"It's practical."

"It looked better long."

She cocked an eyebrow quizzically at him, a faint hint of pink appearing on her cheeks. "That sounded suspiciously like a compliment."

"Take it as you will. When do we leave?"

"Within a day or two." Lysandra sighed, knowing trying to talk him out of coming would be only slightly less productive then banging her head against a stonewall. He felt some sort of strange obligation to her, or at least to protect her, and she was beginning to think he had been in on the Harbinger thing from day one, that would explain a lot. "I really think you should go back to Whiterun."

"Have you ever been to Ustengrav?" He challenged, eyebrows furrowing as he glared at her, wondering if she was stupid or suicidal, perhaps both.

"Somewhere east of Solitude?"

"I'm going."

* * *

><p>"You're late."<p>

Lysandra flashed an apologetic smile at Vilkas. Shad had woken up and gone to speak with Arngeir once more before leaving. For someone who hardly spoke, he had had quite a bit to say. "WULD!"

This time, Vilkas was prepared for her doing that, though he would admit it was still a bit odd to watch as she went from the top of the steps that led inside to where he was. This time, now that he knew what to expect, he had been able to monitor her progress, aided greatly by his wolf-enhanced abilities. "You do realize, Thu'um is not for playing?"

"Arngeir said to practice constantly."

He was seeing a lot of 'Wuld' and 'Fus Ro' in his near future.


	22. His, Its, Theirs

**A/N:** Sorry everyone for the seriously long delay! I have excuses! Moving, splitting from the S/O, college, kids, um... well, actually, the main excuse is I stopped playing Skyrim due to all the bugs (PS3) and then didn't bother trying to replay until just recently. If this chapter seems disconnected from all the rest, that's because it probably is. This is my 'getting back into things' chapter, and I do have an actual idea of where this story will be heading down the road so I'll be updating regularly again. By regular, I mean at least once a week and not once a year. **  
><strong>

**22: His, Its, Theirs**

"Idiot, you bloody idiot!"

Considering those were Lysandra's first words to him since they had descended High Hrothgar, Vilkas was not overly impressed. "This _idiot_ just saved your worthless hide, _Dragonborn_." He said coolly. They had tramped across Skyrim to Ustengrav, only to come upon a fight of mages and bandits. The bandits had lost, unsurprisingly, leaving it to the Companion and… her… to clean up the mages.

Lysandra had done her fair share of eliminating the mages, but she had failed to spot one coming up from the tomb entrance. If not for him and his _idiot_ tendencies, she would have taken a fireball straight to the face. As it was, he had taken it to the back. Fortunately for him, his heavy, damp fur cloak had taken the brunt of the initial impact.

"WULD!"

She was suddenly in front of him, gray eyes blazing with fury. "I saw it coming, I would have ducked!"

He snorted, busy using his foot to roll his smoldering fur in the snow. "Highly doubtful, Imperial." Vilkas stared down at her, not bothered in the least that she had basically 'Thu'um'ed' her way to him, she had really taken to that particular Shout and he would admit, to himself, that it had come in handy on more than one occasion.

Thu'um'ed… now he even sounded like her. Talos have mercy.

"To blazes with you…" She muttered, walking a slow circle around him, inwardly sighing with relief when she seen he had taken no damage. His cloak on the other hand… well, it was probably a good thing he was both Nord and werewolf… elsewise he would have frozen his temperamental backside off.

Not giving him the chance to say anything, she shouldered her sword and pressed on.

* * *

><p>"Can you use your new Thu'um?" Vilkas asked, trying not to sound curious as he regarded Lysandra, who was leaning against the wall she had located a Word of Power on. Now that he was familiar with how she 'absorbed' the Shouts and the varying degrees of fatigue that came with the deal, he was prepared to see her hair –short as it was- go crazy and a wind rush through her.<p>

Lysandra shook her head no. "No, not without a… uh… a…"

"Spit it out, Imperial."

"Not without a dragon soul."

"A dragon soul?" Vilkas laughed humorlessly. "And how do you get one of _those_? Surely the Greybeards don't expect _you_ to slay a dragon on your own."

She smiled uncertainly at him.

"Absolutely not!"

* * *

><p>Considering they had finally made it to the horn, Lysandra figured Vilkas would have given the dragon thing a rest. Instead, he had repeatedly insisted on telling her 'no' in his various forms of snarls and grunts, all the while battling puzzle rooms and whatever else jumped out at them. If she could avoid being barbecued by the fireballs some of these traps shot out, she could probably avoid being flamed to death by a dragon.<p>

A dragon… why was it always the dragons? If, by chance, she did run into a dragon, it would be her _third_ time, and nobody was ever three times lucky. She would probably die, which was what Vilkas was telling her, not that she'd let him know she actually agreed with him.

"What the…" She stared down at where the horn should be, brows drawing together in a furrow. Frowning, she plucked the note off the stand and unfolded it. After a moment, she had crumpled it in a clenched fist. Someone had already been through here, and taken the horn. Taken the bloody horn! The note requested her presence in Riverwood… as if she had a choice.

And to make matters worse… whoever had done this, hadn't even bothered to clear out the damn way!

* * *

><p>It was on the walk to Riverwood that Lysandra realized something was wrong with Vilkas. Something besides his usual anyway. They had to cut through the land since the main road would take them the extremely long route and once they were on the path –sort of, it sure wasn't the cobbled road she had gotten used to-, she had noticed it.<p>

He was grouchier than usual, if possible, and more prone to snapping. If she hadn't known for a fact that he was a wolf, she would have said he was acting like a bear.

"What's wrong with you?" She finally demanded, coming to a standstill in the middle of the path.

He glanced down at her, arching one thick eyebrow. He hadn't bothered to stop with her, just continued out, a soft growl escaping him when he felt her grasping at his shoulder. "Woman!"

"Tell me." There was an implied 'Fus Ro' in there.

How was he supposed to tell her that his inner beast, the creature he had been denying for so long now, was raging to be set free? That containing the wolf within was becoming more of a struggle with each passing day? That she was not making it any easier?

He couldn't tell her any of this. She had flat out told him not to come and he had done so anyway. Why? Because the wolf demanded they watch out for her, their… mate. _His_ mate, its mate, theirs. No, he would, he _could_ control it.

"Nothing, woman. Now let's go, we're wasting time."

Shaking her head, Lysandra watched as he walked away from her. If he thought he was getting off that easily…

A moment later, Vilkas was eating dirt.

"Wuld!" A second moment and she was sitting on his back, her legs straddling his sides, and she could literally feel him growling, it was sending tremors through them both. Maybe… maybe this was a bad idea, maybe she should have just let him continue with his brooding, his mood swings, his… "Vilkas!"

He was over her now, her flat on her back, and he was spitting dirt and who knew what out of his mouth, not caring if it got on her face or in her hair. "You… dirty little…"

"Wench?" She clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes widening.

If it had been anyone but her… he realized his hand was raised, prepared to deliver what would definitely been a jaw breaking punch and forcibly restrained himself. The indignity… the… he growled yet again, running his tongue over his teeth, tasting soil. She had used a Thu'um to send him sprawling!

The wolf was howling at him to just claim her already. The man was tempted to paddle some respect into her.

When it looked like her lips were forming an 'F', he clamped his hand across her mouth.

Lysandra's squeals of surprise were cut off when his already abnormally pale eyes ringed yellow and she swallowed down the 'Fus' she had been considering.


End file.
